We Were There Once
by Suga Bee
Summary: Alfred is too young to understand his feelings,and constantly falling between the lines of seme and uke w/ two older nations.Will he be able to have his family or in the heat of obtaining it all,will he lose everything?Warning MPreg in future and present!
1. What are we?

It was a beautiful Sunday morning when she was delivered into this world. A cold, spring day, which still had old remnants of winter tingeing the winds as they riled up the last sweep of fall leaves.

But the story really starts on a sunny day in May. Yes, that's where we should really begin.

May 16th

The two had sat across from each other, eyes no longer locked in hatred, whatever driving force of animosity which was ever there to begin with had dissipated, a cloudy love hazing over.

There was a faint heat to his cheeks as Alfred looked away, Ivan cracking a knowing smile as the conference went on, their odd behavior undetected.

"And finally, I would like to announce that in better news," almost everyone in the room was roused from whatever dream world they had drifted to or whatever board stupor they had slipped into, at the mentioning of "Better News."

"Eliziveta is going to have her baby soon, and I thought it would be a nice gesture to give her a card," Arthur was interrupted by a quick, French accent.

"Or maybe some clothes and toys." Francis' smile widened as Italy gave a squeal of approval, England simply rolled his eyes, heaving a sigh.

"Yes, yes, anything of the sort would be a great idea." the bell rang through the room, signifying the fact that the conference was over. A few countries jumped up and bolted for the door, " Keep in mind she's having a boy!" The Englishman yelled after them. "I would hate for him to grow up in a dress like Francis."

Alfred couldn't help but chuckle as his foster parents fought, France's hands grabbing a hold of England's belt loops, pulling him close, the shorter blonde shying away as he tried to kiss him, face red and eyes down cast. But it was only a matter of minutes before a young woman walked into the room, her sun caressed skin darkening beneath a wonderfully blue cotton dress. In a faithful instant, Francis was at his girlfriend's side, laughing as he kissed her hand gently, taking her arm to lead her away. Arthur was left still and beating in the silence, still flustered and blushing from France's touch.

'I guess you never out grow your first love. But I also guess that your first is supposed to always last.' He had grown up with the thought of 'Love at first sight' and 'Happy Endings' but after these past years, he knew love and adoration was too complicated for it to 'just work' the first time. America mused over the subject as he closed his note book with a soft, sad sort of smile, eyes glancing back over to Ivan's seat. 'Must have left early. I guess he's had his fill of family today.' he slung his jacket over his shoulder and turned to leave only to see the door closing, a tall figure unveiling himself from the shadow as the lock _clicked_ into place.

"You're still here, where's England?" The Russian's smile spread about his lips with a calming effect, his fingers beckoning to Alfred as he met him half way, his nose brushing his own, eyelashes tickling his cheeks as the two mingled.

"He left while you were deep in thought," Ivan simply answered in a breathy tone, the silence seeping in. The only sounds were the crisp clothes crinkling as his hands slipped underneath their bindings, buttons popping softly as he tore at the fabric. The young nation tipped his head back, arching toward the touch as if he'd never felt that pleasure, though there were thousands of instances where he'd known of more carnal contact.

Gentle, patient hands pressed against Ivan, "We can't," his eyes held a dulling memory, of another country who was waited somewhere for him, unknowing of what was happening now.

"He won't know," the amethyst eyes were pleading, dragging out any excuse to have this moment, to feel the heat and bask in the breathy sighs one more time. His met his trembling lips with a deep kiss, pulling back to see if the other would follow their embrace, and just as he thought, Alfred pressed back the kiss never breaking. The opposition slacked a little, Ivan taking the advantage to smooth his hands over the budding love handles, how sweet and round his hips were, and how peach the skin. But just before he could dive into anything past a sort of, 'no return' passion, Alfred squirmed uncomfortably, as if waking from a bizarre, groggy dream. Ivan reached again for him but the blonde shook his head, biting his lip as he passed the other with a gentle brush.

"But I will."

Author's Comments:

Well this is my first story on FanFiction, but I feel really confident on this! Basically, it's all about a love triangle as different people find new love, rekindle old relationships, and find that maybe you can't really have it all.


	2. Just thinking out loud

May 18

A tiny drop of sunlight was pooling in from barley open curtains, ribboning across his closed eyes, dragging him from slumber. America awoke with a deep drowsiness set in his head. It took all his strength to pull himself up and even then, his eyes were heavy and his mind still clouded with reveries. 'Why must I dream of him?' he wondered, face in his hands as he laid back down.

The bed creaked as he heavily sighed, head spinning with a dull ache. The covers shifted slowly as the form beside him rolled so quietly over, drawing his attention to the small Japanese man. His eyes were closed lightly, cheeks flushed and lips barely open in the perfect form of pure sleep. Alfred swallowed the lump in his throat, remembering how Ivan and him had acted after the conference. 'Poor guy doesn't know a thing.' his calloused hands fingered a few of the dark stands of hair, the locks silky and smooth to the touch. Tiny, warm eyes fluttered open as Alfred pulled away, the man's smile growing.

"Don't stop," he whispered serenely, his hands taking Alfred's in his own, pressing his palm to his cheeks, the American's heart quivering at the simple gesture. Kiku then brought his hand to his lips, the rose petals brushing the promise ring on his finger. "Have you been up long? You look tired," he drew up on his elbows, softly looking down at the younger nation, a hidden smile beset on his face.

"Naw, I'm fine, just thinking." It wasn't really a lie, at least not yet, but he knew what was coming next.

"About what?" the innocence in the question hurt Alfred to hear, especially since he didn't have the heart to answer correctly.

There was a pause as Alfred drew up and stretched, muscles sore from last night. "Well, just things about the meeting." He mentally rewarded himself for that one. Wasn't a lie. Just a bit vague. Kiku upturned his face, brown eyes glittering in a vivid remembrance.

"I heard Hungary-chan is going to have her baby!" there was a bright tune to his voice, "She's been simply glowing these last few weeks." America nodded at this, hoping the conversation wouldn't start up again. "You know, in a few months, she'll be bringing him to meetings. Think of how tiny his little feet will be, and such big, curious eyes." The grin on Kiku's face widened at the thoughts of a baby toddling around the house, hand knit blankets folded in cribs, plush toys scattered in a nursery. Alfred could see it in his eyes, that motherly attraction Kiku always acquired when talking about children, but there was always that awkward, dry feeling that seemed to press in on America at the thought.

A silence seeped between them as the two thought in their own worlds, Japan finally willing together the courage to pipe up. "We could have our own you know,"

"Kiku we've talked about this." He was resolute as he spoke, being as gentle as possible as he touched base on his partner's thoughts. "I just...you know. We're just not ready." He was almost shaking as he played nonchalant.

He had thought about having kids. Whenever Mattie brought over his little daughter, Alfred loved to pick her up and play with her, her smile bright and heart melting as she giggled and laughed. His favorite feeling seemed to be when he read to her, and her lilac eyes would be half mast and tired, her little fingers loosely gripping his jacket as she was lulled to sleep. But he wasn't sure why he felt like this, as if having his own would be weird.

Japan must have seen some foreign guilt in his eyes, because suddenly Alfred felt Kiku's hands on chest, grazing then by his cheeks, closing around his neck in an embrace. "I'm in no hurry. I understand. It was just a thought." America pulled him closer, breaking from his day dream and kissing the naked skin of his shoulder where Kiku's kimono had slipped down.

**-That Afternoon-**

"Just a thought, dear. I am, how do you say, just thinking out loud." Russia laughed as the two boys walked through the mall, both intent on finding the perfect gift for Elizevta and her baby.

"Ivan, I don't think we should go all out on this whole gift thing. Can't we just get her a gift card or something?" Alfred wasn't lazy or anything, he just didn't think he wanted to spend his whole day looking through baby clothes.

The Russian shook his head, beige bangs falling in his eyes. "No no, have you no manners? We have to pick out cute clothes and toys for her baby boy. Gift cards are rude, like saying, 'Here, we thought about you, but didn't have the energy to actually put effort in it.' We are not going to be rude, tiny Amerika. We are going to be civil." Alfred fought not to roll his eyes at the sing song tune in his voice, that accent light and fluffy like crème today as they walked toward the back of the store. "Besides, I like to shop for little ones."

"Really?" Alfred raised an eyebrow at the little side note which Russia had quickly slipped into the end of his sentence.

"Da. I don't know why but I cannot help but smile when I think of such tiny babies." His large hands picked up a little blue blanket, the fabric unfolding to show sweet brown lines, and a checkered board finish. America watched as his friend's eyes clouded over with a placid passion, his smile widening as a little laugh passed his lips. "How about this one?"

Alfred shook his head to clear his thoughts, but Russia took it as an answer of 'no'. He folded it gently and kneeled to find a green one this time, bringing the earthy cloth to Alfred's eye level. "What about this one?" the younger nation took the blanket, his fingers brushing the cool tips of Ivan's, as he felt the soft texture.

"Ya, I like this one. Its soft, too." he mused aloud, rubbing circles over it with his thumb. With a nod, Ivan added the blanket to the cart and they went on.

After a few hours of searching, the two had started laughing and remembering things of their past, such as England and France's upbringing of Alfred, how Ukraine had played Mom to Ivan his entire life, a cart full of infant stuff already bagged and paid for, the two walking to the car, completely comfortable by now.

"You know, I never thought that I'd ever want children, but after looking through all this stuff, I guess I'm swaying over." Alfred added a laugh to his sentence, Ivan's coy smile playing nicely with his tender gaze.

"I think you'd make a wonderful mother." He said honestly in passing, the blonde quickly looking toward him with real shock in his eyes.

"What? ME? A mother? Oh no, no, no. I couldn't." he laughed again, waving his hands in a negative gesture.

Russia had finished packing the bags into the back of America's cherry red mustang and was sliding into the passenger seat when he began the argument. "I'm being serious Amerika, with such a tiny figure and girlish looks I can see you plump and rounded now," Alfred revved the engine, laugh dying down as he saw how serious his friend was being.

"Ya, right, there's no way," with a childish eye roll he turned back to see if he could pull out when a tender hand covered his, Ivan's form leaned over, gently pressing him against the door, head thudding back onto the window.

"What are you doing," he asked in a quick whisper, a tinge of thrill and excitement lighting up in his chest.

Cold hands lifted the hem of his shirt, slipping over the finely toned muscles of his stomach, thumb barely circling around the rim of his belly button. "Imagining you carrying my child." Alfred closed his eyes trying to hold back a whimpering moan that was sticking to the back of his throat. Ivan bent his crown to rest on Alfred's, their lips lightly brushing, the heat in his cheeks growing as his heart sped up.

"Think of what it would mean, if it happened. You'd wake up in my arms, a tiny being inside you, growing and showing the world what we've done." a cruel smile was on his lips as Alfred's hands laced across his back, head turning from side to side as Ivan nuzzled and caressed his neck.

Thoughts and blurred visions of a tiny girl with silvering hair, and cerulean eyes passed before him. 'She's from my dreams,' he thought as he felt Ivan's hands leave trails of fire down his skin, his warm lips nipping playfully at his color bone. 'She's the girl I see when I picture my future child.'

Was this what he wanted? To mother Russia's children? But Kiku-

His eyes shot open, his passionate reverie dissipating at the thought of the sweet angel he had left at home.

"Ivan, get off," his voice was shaky, the entire car stuffy and pressing in on him suddenly. "I said off!" his hands shoved the Russian back into his seat, amethyst gaze still tender and kind. "I'm sorry, but you know I'm."

"Yes yes, I know." Ivan held his hands up in a peace offering. "You're taken. It's just when I look at you-"

Alfred shook his head quickly, "Don't start this. He's my...we're..." the conversation with Kiku that morning came to mind, and the dreams, and then after conference meeting. "Ivan, its complicated."

The two stared in silence, as if to try and decipher whatever thoughts were going on behind the others brain. At last, it was a defeated and patient as always Ivan who had broke the solitude.

"I'm sorry." he apologized, the actual tremble in his voice a little weary and worn, "It was just a thought."

**Author's note: TADA! I wasn't sure if I was going to go through with this and write the rest of the chapters, but I just simply had to keep going. I'm not sure if anyone out there is actually reading these, but I'm open for suggestions and votes on what Alfred should do. Play uke and be with Russia or play seme and be with Japan. :) I just can't wait for someone to be knocked up and have a baby. lol. Maybe we'll finally see Preg-Hungary or at least some Motherly Matthew. **


	3. My thoughts and my actions don't agree

Alfred was found sitting in his car, head resting on the steering wheel, eyes a little wet with tears that had stung too bad to hold back. His throat was dry, no matter how much he wiped his nose and sniffled, he was still at war with his conflicting thoughts. Of Ivan, and Kiku, children, his future, nothing was in balance any more.

A light knock on the window interrupted his moping, jolting him a little when he turned, only to see gentle lavender eyes peering down at him. A smile grew on his lips as he opened the door, a laugh building deep in his chest.

"Matthew, I missed you," he wrapped his arms around his brother, gripping his shirt tightly as if to never let go.

"God Alfred you look terrible, do you just not sleep?" The younger twin pulled back and fussed over his brothers parted, blonde locks, his lightly manicured nails feeling nice against his scalp. Alfred's eyes drank in his brothers beautiful smile, those lightly sun kissed curls, and maternal gaze as he looked back at him, now straightening his un-ironed shirt and even tweaking his glasses to sit right on his nose.

Matthew wasn't a 'girly' boy. He was strong beneath his polo shirts, crisp narrow shoulders and nice height, but after his first pregnancy, his skin glowed with a suppleness, something unique and soft when you held him. His irises were like liquid violet, clear and smiling on everything. Alfred, suddenly overcome with a lonely urge, pulled him into another hug, yet something felt off.

"Please, Alfred be careful," Canada chuckled, a little quip of a French accent tingeing his speech. "I'm not due for a few more months but this one has been different than last time. Brie was never this moody." he giggled off the trivial thought, but Alfred couldn't help but gape.

"What? Mattie, again? Do you two ever just, I don't know, take a night off?"

"Alfred!" He lightly hit him over the head, the other hand holding the small of his back as he leaned a bit. "I can't believe you'd just say that," his little cheeks were simply glowing with embarrassment. "Besides, Gil wants a few, and Brie has been asking constantly about her little 'Christmas present'." America marveled at the flickering spark in his soul at Matt's mentioning of little children and the lovely Brie. He took his brother by the shoulder, helping him up the steps and into the house.

"It's so good to have you back."

"So, like, does it feel weird?" Alfred had gotten Matthew a tall glass of tea, and a few soft pillows to sit on, and the two were lounging around, just enjoying a real nice, lazy, family day. The eldest brother was kneeling down on the floor, chin resting on his brothers knees as he felt around on Matthew's rounding stomach.

"Weird?" he drank a few gulps of tea before tilting his head in deep contemplation. "No I guess not. Imagine something rolling around inside you, something you have no control over." Alfred's eyebrows raised at the thought, finger tips still searching for something, as if to feel for-

"OHMYGOD MATTHEW!"

"Calm down Alfred! It just kicked! It's ok, it ok!" Poor Alfred had lost his glasses in jumping up, but blindly found his way back to his brother, hands wide and gentle as he tried to find the source again.

"Make her do it again!" He demanded in a fit of glee, the tiny flutter still vibrating in his memory. Matthew laughed a little at how much of a dork his brother could be sometimes.

"It'll happen when it happens. It's the baby not me. And besides," Canada tenderly took his brothers hands in his own, pressing them palm down, right beneath his belly button, hands almost in a pretty heart shape with the thumbs touching, index fingers close together. "We don't know if it's a boy or a girl. Gil swears it's a boy, but he also said Brie would be a boy. I think he's just wishing." he kept moving their hands around, seeking the tiny entity inside him. "There, right there," he pushed calmly against his brother's hands, Alfred's smile growing as he felt the weak kick, the blonde holding his breath to keep completely still.

"It's like a small heart beat. Oh Matthew, why didn't you tell me about this with Brie?" He didn't want to look up from the little force, but he broke his gaze for a minute.

"Well you were busy with Kiku, and with the whole Oil Spill. I called but you didn't seem into kids, so I left it alone." The disruptions faded after a few breath taking moments, his heart still shaking with the shock of it.

"I wish I could have been there, I'm so sorry." a heavy tone set in Alfred's voice, as if tears were on the way, guilt seeping into every word. Yielding hands came up and cupped his cheeks, turning his downcast gaze to Matthew's wonderful patience.

"Don't worry about it. Besides, it's really no big deal. To a second time mother, nothing's really new. If you want to help I won't mind, and neither will Gilbert." he chuckled, "You know Alfred, I've never seen you so gentle, and calm. You'll make a wonderful mother one day. And think, Brie could have a little baby cousin, it'd be so perfect. Huh, Mama Jones?" sticking his tongue out at his brother, Matthew gave another good natured laugh. But looking down at the blonde, his mood died down a bit, Alfred's mind seeming to be in another place.

Without his glasses, Alfred looked so young, so innocent and carefree, but his ocean eyes were dreary and weighed down with something. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

Alfred shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs or shake terrible thoughts onto the floor. He bent down to press a kiss to his brother's stomach, the tiny baby pressing back, his heart skipping a beat. "I'm just making life a whole lot harder than I should. You know, just the usual." There was a slight shrug. A stalling silence, and finally a loving hug.

"Take care of yourself Alfie, please," his caring voice was fragile as he let his older brother go Canada giving him back his glasses, America unleashing a strong smile as he put them back on, leaning them a little to the left.

"Don't you worry, I'll be fine. Go on, Prussia's probably back home, bitchin' about you bein' late." Canada half heartedly wanted to stay to make sure America would be ok, but decided against it. 'He'll have to fight his own demons by himself. '

"See ya Alfie," There was a wave as he got into his car.

"Don't cha be a stranger!" a laugh. And a silent tear as his brother left. And his clashing thoughts crisscrossing against his mind again. His chest heaved forward, sobs wracking him as he leaned on the door way, beautiful eyes weak and bleary with thick tears.

Matthew's words kept prickling through him, paining him. "You'll be a wonderful mother," kept throbbing in his head again, and it was Ivan's faint smile that was ebbing back the hurtful sadness.


	4. I used to think

**Ok, so I want to apologize for this page. Lots of implied AlfredxKiku sex. :( But even if ur not a fan, bear through it to at least read the end. **

**Also note that this and the next chapter happen from sunset to sunrise of the same night. And don't worry RusAme fans, I know what you want, and it's coming. Maybe. lol. Please read and comment with what should happen. **

**-ENJOY!-**

Their lips stung from the kiss as Alfred pressed deeper, Kiku taken off guard and gasping as the moment sped around him.

"Alfred," he tried to whisper, but couldn't keep his voice down as America tore open his shirt, the tight ripping sound of the fabric tantalizing and quick.

America's pursed lips found the pink nipple and he pulled gently at the skin, his partner arching his back against the graze of teeth, all the while, Japan's tiny hands caught in Alfred's curls, pulling tenderly whenever the younger nation would hit a cluster of nerves.

Finally Alfred drew up and caught Kiku in another kiss, nipping roughly, trying to take back what was his.

_"Alfred, I don't know why you you're acting so jealous of him. Greece and I are just friends. If anything, I should be envious of you and Ivan, it seems you two do nothing but go out and have fun." his comical mood hit America as if a knife in the back._

_He had done nothing but deny Russia, and Japan was acting as if he was all over him like best buds._

_"I mean, come on Al, you two went out a shopped for baby clothes like some couple. Besides, Greece just came over for brunch. Nothing happened." A swift image of Kiku laid out on their bed, face hot with blush, lips moist, red, and tingling from play. Greece stealing kisses, holding him close._

_"I felt a little unloved by how you just blew me off for Russia."_

"Ah, b-be gentle," he reminded the younger one as hands grabbed him, Kiku almost folding in two as Alfred's fingers slid down his most sensitive organ. He gasped as Alfred then took him all in his mouth, surprised at how warm and close he was to the edge.

Japan closed his eyes, taking in deep, hitched breaths as he tried to steady himself, toes curling into the fabric. There was a pain, something spiced and sweet and mixed with pleasure as he felt himself filled with all of Alfred, a rocking rhythm starting in his heart and throbbing to his very core.

His pants grew shallow, hands searching for something, anything to grab onto, leg nimbly wrapped around the dominating waist.

'Oh God,' his chest was tired from writing beneath him, his whole body about to give out as Alfred grew rougher, harder, nails biting into skin, lips and teeth plaguing him as the end came in a blinding force.

"Al-Ah Alfred!" he cried out, hands grabbing the mattress to anchor himself, and with one last thrust Kiku felt broken, body releasing whatever pent up passion, his nerves left open and raw as the tall blonde above him drew him into a cold kiss, so charming, so delicious.

"Don't leave, don't leave," he tried to lift his arms to pull his lover back down to him, to just rest as he came down from his high. But his eyes couldn't stay open. He was growing tired too quick. There were words on his lips, but as sleep caught him in a captivating embrace, he forgot them and slumbered.

America's steps were heavy as he left his sleeping angel, heart still racing as he tried to steady his breath. Tired feet drug him to the poach, the mild air whistling through the lush branches of the old oak, Spanish moss draped like sage curtains.

He reached instinctively for the packet of Pall Mall's, the cigarette crisp and fresh as he held one between his lips, lighting it with a breathing sigh.

"Don't say I've never loved you, Kiku," his whisper was taken away with the wind as it snaked about, the blonde taking a long drag and holding it in before exhaling with the remembering of a young couple beneath a spring's cherry blossoms.

_"I love you," _

"I know," Came Alfred's reply to his own faded memory, blowing it away with another exhale of smoke. And with those parting words, the sun finally set on the day.


	5. I've always known

**HEY! I'm back! Just wanted to thank all my readers and also remind new comers that this chapter and the last chapter happen from unset (last chapter) to sunrise (This chapter) **

**Sorry if its too confusing! Hope you guys enjoy. Also I would like to know if anybody has any other couples they want me to Write. And rememebr, Im a hardcore RusAme Fan, so something good for the two must be coming right? **

**Happy Holidays!**

* * *

Russia's mood was calming down, the adrenaline leaking sleepily, body restless as if drained and was now numbed with a heavy sedative. He rested up against the door frame, his long body curling up as he sat. His posture was rigid as if to guard the insides of the room.

But no one was there. No one was ever there anymore.

It had been a spare bedroom at one point with simple walls, bland colors and maybe a few pictures to give it a little light. But after last year, it had become Alfred's home.

His chest expanded with a drawn in breath, the scent of apples and snow mixing at the memory of the night Alfred had come to him. 'It must have been almost midnight,' he mused, 'when he showed up.'

**-A bristling winter night already a year ago-**

_"Alfred?" _

_"Ya, Commie, look, I hate to ask you for anything. Especially since I...ya know, believe in Democracy and you don't," the blonde was staring at his shoes as if to make sure they weren't going anywhere, eyes darting from Russia, to the warm inside of his house, and the sparkling Christmas lights Ukraine had helped him put up, hands wringing themselves around the shoulder strap of an old and fading army bag._

_Russia laughed heartily, his gaze gleaming with generosity, head tilted a little to the right. "You know, Comrade, I am no longer a 'Commie'," his gloved fingers air quoted at the last syllable. "But what is it you are asking for, hmm? I am in the middle of watching a movie and didn't really expect any company." his tone might have been a little spiteful, but America was shivering to the core. _

_"Japan and I, well, I guess I kinda screwed this one over real bad, so I just...well I came here to see. I j-just wanted to see if I could-" his voice trailed off, lips faltering to find any words. "I wanted to know if," he started again, his eyes now looking up at Ivan, sincerity and a kindred hope. "I-,"_

_"Come in, Amerika, you're letting the heat out," there was a nervous chuckle at the ill placed joke and a quick 'Thank you' from he suddenly small voiced blonde. _

_A fireplace crackled in the middle of the living room, Alfred's heart melting at the beautiful sight of glowing stone and wood. A regal stair case lead up to the second floor lay out, three rooms vacant and open to the Baltic nations when they came back, but Russia lead him instead through the hall way, the crème walls decorated with portraits of distant family, vases of flowers, and flags through the ages of Russia. At the end was a bathroom and two adjacent rooms, each facing each other. He stole a look inside each as Russia told him to wait, leaving to the back of the house. _

_The left had a king sized bed, layers and layers of down sheets and a mountain of pillows. Tassels and silk garnished everything, from the throw blankets to the canopy, the entire room was bathed in opulence, in class and vigor. But the room across was plain and simple, just a bed with sheets, maybe they were white, but the shadows played little tricks. Not even the windows were curtained, the full moon rays tumbling in, soaking the carpet with white milky waves. _

_"He'll probably up in that one," there was a pause as Ivan listened from his hiding, Alfred giving an exasperated sigh. "Hell, from the way I've treated him, I'd put me in that room. I wouldn't even give me a room!" his voice was clear and truthful with a guilty spite. _

_"Take this one," The tall Russian easily moved past Alfred and held out a hand in a simple bow, showing him to the left room. _

_"What? But, but-" his thoughts had stopped as Ivan started pulling back the covers, neatly folding them and fluffing a few pillows. "Isn't this your room?"_

_"I have others," came the simple reply, no thought to his comment._

_"I know that, I mean, where will you sleep?" a soft laugh tickled his ears, Ivan turning to face him. There was a sort of blind innocence to Alfred, who wasn't really a terribly hard person to read. Now understanding him? That was a completely different. _

_"Like I said, I have other rooms Alfred. Now do you need anything?" the two caught each other's glance and stood locked in the moment. Alfred's cheeks were still flushed and rosy from the cold winds, his blue eyes endless and fluid as they swept over Ivan, looking for a flaw in character. _

_"Kinda like the old days huh?" there was that smile, Russia nodded solemnly, finally recognizing the light in his partners eyes. _

_"Yep, just like the old days." the two stepped forward, guards shattered and walls crumbling as they hugged. _

**-But in the present- **

He turned his head to look into the room to the right, posters of Alfred's favorite bands through the eons still hanging onto the walls. Led Zeppelin , Jimi Hendrix, Ozzy, 3 Days Grace, the Beatles. Clothes were left discarded and strewn about, a pair of flag imprinted boxers with stars and stripes thrown carelessly onto the lamp shade, coke bottles and cans neglected on the bed side table.

"He used to call this home."

Even the drawers were filled with him. Pairs of jeans, overalls, t-shirts things he had left there over the year, too lazy, or in Russia's eyes, to adapted, to ever want to take them home.

But when Kiku finally forgave him, Alfred rushed back, never quite finding it in him to move everything back.

"Just in case?" he had whispered to the blonde's ear, a wonderful smile budding on his lips.

"You know not to wait for me. It's a waste of time." Russia nodded at the remembrance of his comrade's promise and just how hard it was to let that little dove go.

But traces of Alfred still scattered about the house, in a sort of beautifully controlled chaos, novels on the marble counters, magazines under sinks, a few board games, whose pieces weren't quiet all at home, were neatly stacked in the closet. He was everywhere Ivan looked, yet the mementoes weren't enough to quell the tears that formed in his eyes at the thoughts of his sweet friend.

"I have work in the morning," a voice woke him from his day dream, "So I'll be leaving soon, aru," Ivan nodded as Yao peered down at him, naked form slightly covered with a bed sheet that was brought up for a little warmth. China stepped over Russia's form, eyes casting back to see Ivan with his head on his drawn up knees, as if he was wishing for the sun to rise so the night would be over and forgotten.

"You now I don't even know why you call me anymore, or why I waste my time with you, aru." a lasting silence between the two grew as Yao waited for Russia to apologize as usual, or come up with some lovely words of adoration to make him feel better, but neither came.

Ivan was stubborn and, raising to his full height, he turned, no longer meeting China's chocolate gaze.

Finally, wiping a lone tear before it fell, Yao called out to the Russian's retreating form.

"You called _his_ name, Ivan-"

"I know."

And those were the parting words as the sun climbed above the horizon.


	6. Losing a game I was trying to get out of

**Welcome back Readers. It's sad, I know, these last few chapters, BUT this means more RusAme on the way. And Don't worry, Kiku has a few secrets too, like how did he find out about all this? And exactly who is he goingto be with? **

**Keep reading please, more is coming depending on the different comments I get. The more specific you guys are the more I am able to write what you want. BTW News flash, more Mpreg next chapter, I wonder WHO! Oh and KikuxAlfred fans, I'm so sorry! :( **

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Saturday rolled in like a cold black storm, Kiku trying to smile his best as Alfred's cold shoulder kept turning him down. He'd ask if there was anything at all that his beloved America might want, but the only answer was a head shake or a little shrug, Japan's patience wearing a little thin, "Come on Alfred, what's bothering you?" The Asian country rested his hands on America's shoulder, fingers stroking at the tight muscle, thumbs rubbing comforting circles as he cooed, "Oh you're so tense, come now, sit down, let me make you some tea."

"I'm going out," Alfred felt as if his mind was going to burst, a soft throbbing beating it's way behind his eyes. Kiku's voice was suffocating o hear, and his touch was like acid, something foreign, something dirty.

Kiku opened his mouth to protest softly, a cruel curiosity and truth building up in his chest, as Alfred walked over to the door, slipping a worn pair of converse.

He could feel those hazel eyes blankly beseeching him for an answer, anything to help Japan understand. 'You need to tell him. Just say it, your mind's made up. But he'll be so broken, Alfred, think of his laugh, think of everything you used to be. Do it, DO it, DO IT."

A strained voice spoke coolly from the chaos in his mind, "I'll be back in a while, I just need time alone,"

"With Ivan," There wasn't even a beat between sentences when Kiku answered.

Alfred F. Jones' hand froze on the brass door knob, mind struck with the poisoned verbal arrow.

"What are you talking about?" he couldn't tell if the old nation was bluffing, or if it was his pride that hurt or his conscious, but as he turned to face Japan, he felt guilty and pained none the less.

Those dark eyes of his were shadowed and serious, almost opaque with betrayal, glossy beginnings of tears filming over.

"Alfred, I know. Just drop the act, I know everything." He was shocked at how calm the voice sounded as it echoed through the silence, a terribly lonely ring reverberated back. Color was mounting in his cheeks as he brought a hand up to quite his sobs. "I can over look the embraces and lovelorn looks at the meetings, but come on. I know this is more than a friendship. Damn it Alfred, I'm not stupid!" Japan was able to regain his composure, an unforgiving mien spinning itself about him.

"But I,"

"No, but NOTHING. I've stayed here and watched as you and him went out for drinks, or..or went to a movie! I don't even remember the last time I heard you even give me an "I love you," Since you two became such great friends!" Anger. It was palpable and fresh as hot steam as Kiku raised his voice, mind blind with frustration.

"What about last night? I love you, Kiku, you know that,"

"What about it, huh? Alfred I have bruises and bite marks, you never used to be that rough. I _hurt_, Alfred. I could tell by the way you held me, it wasn't me who you wanted. You're sick! And what am I even to you? Am I just some guy it's 'nice to know', some friend with benefits-"

"No, no, Kiku you have it all wrong!"

"It's you who has it all wrong, America," the simple sound of his country's title stopped him in his tracks As Alfred had tried to placate Kiku. Never had Japan called him America. And the way he spat it, Alfred shook his head to show his apologies, heart burnt with shame as Kiku's tears finally broke forth, tiny wet tears trailing down his blushed cheeks.

"I've tried so hard," the words were spat now, broken almost, "I never questioned what you did or where you went. If Ivan brought you back past out drunk, what did I do, hmm? I'd lay you down and help cure your hangover. Everything I've ever done was for you, and when you'd mess up, I'd keep telling myself, 'He's young. Don't worry, you'll see this through.'" Kiku's fingers touched his promise ring, finally sliding it off, "But I can't do this." There was defeat, truth wounding him as it faded in. "Greece was right. I've just been wasting my time with a selfish, ignorant brat."

The raw words were heavy on Alfred's ears, his chest shaking from the cores with some unknown emotion. Never had the Asia country seemed so wise, so ageless and untouchable as he looked Alfred in the eye, disgust and pure liquid hate buried in his caramel glare. Guilt and hurt washed over the young nation, his lips parched and trembling as he tried to save the mess. 'I've already hurt him once, come on Jones, be the hero,'

"Wait Kiku-"

"Just go," he threw the ring, Alfred's shaky hand barely catching the gold band. "Because I am absolutely tired of laying awake every night, thinking about how everything I've ever given you has never been good enough..."

A silence as Alfred gave up, heart too weak to say another word.

"...Including me..."


	7. In need of some peace and quite

He should Have known better than to think he would be able to sleep soundly after Kiku's big find. He knew Japan expected him to bolt off to Ivan's house, but as he made his way into the outside, he just couldn't find it in his heart to go to him.

Eyes forward, and heart gaping, he walked for what felt like a thousand miles through the city. People passed him, no one knowing where he'd come from, yet they all had that look in their eyes.

'As if they've all known where I've been. And what I've done.

His stomach was twisted and nauseous, heart slow and monotonous as it beat behind his chest as if to break away.

He knew that in a way, he was free. He could go back to Russia, be welcomed with open arms and that smile-

A shiver caught up to him at the thought. "I'm not ready for that." mothers pulled their children along as he kept muttering to himself, heart and mind not in our world anymore, just drifting, shifting, yet stuck. "What if he, God I wouldn't want me to after what I've done." America pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes, rubbing as if the clear his vision, to bring himself back to earth.

"I wasn't trying to do this! I pushed Russia away, before the meeting I could have let him have me..."

_'You wanted it too much, though.'_

"...I pulled Kiku closer..."

_'You smothered him in your grasp.'_

"And what do I get in the end? A tattered soul, a broken relationship, and my ring back."

He wished Japan would have taken it with him, whether he kept it or pawned it, Japan would have still had to remember him. But now, it was his reminder of what he'd done. Never had America felt so low, so wrong, so un-heroic. The band stared back at him, now, glistening like some kind of hissing antagonist.

_'Cheater, liar, he trusted you, he loved you,'_

Alfred quickly pocketed the ring before it would reflect any more wisdom as he trekked farther into the city.

**-the Afternoon-**

As he rounded the lake, where benches were perched on the shore, the water lapping languidly at the parched sand, Alfred felt like drowning, washing out everything he was in scalding water. He'd then peel off the blisters, look into the mirror and find the brand new Alfred, the one stripped from haunting memories of a fragile Japanese boy whose heart was too kind for either of their good.

But he kept walking, no more answers coming to him, no great revelry of how to fix him and Kiku, no sign pointing toward Ian being the ultimate answer.

For once, his mind was silent, and he kinda missed the chaos in his head. Instead, confusion fed itself upon him, his feet finally letting him return home.

It was empty when he arrived. All of America's stuff was still there, neat and in place, but Kiku's place and presence had disappeared as if he had never been there in the first place.

Dissipated. Faded. Gone.

Alfred stepped through the house as if he was some stranger, the doors squeaking relentlessly on their hinges when he peeked into the rooms, as if to find him crying on the bed, small and insignificant, and in need of Alfred's comforting. But he found nothing, just beds simple and neat, cold tile echoing the immense silence of his foot falls.

"It was like he took the warmth when he packed his bags."

_"He took nothing."_

"He took everything." With a drawn and exhausted sigh, he laid on the couch, where he belonged, and tried to fall asleep.

A hazy fog seemed to drift about him as he finally slipped into slumber, a weight ebbing itself from his shoulders as his breath slowed. His eyes liked the feel of being closed, his shoulder blades feeling free as though he could sprout wings and fly away.

Yes, that's how sleep felt. It was a beautiful innocence as he shifted slowly, mind blank and voices finally hushed. Goosebumps settled in on his skin as the air conditioning kicked on, finally a familiar sound in this alien world-

"UNCLE ALFIE! UNCLE ALFIE!" the battle cry came bouncing into the house as a light flooded in. The tiny soldier gave no other warning as she scampered into the living room, pouncing suddenly toward Alfred, the blonde's reflexes tested as he barely shot up in time to catch her.

Save the damsel: Success!

"Mommy! Mommy, Uncle Alfie's home!"she cried before burying her head into the soft crook of his neck, savoring the warmth of sleep that hung on him.

America smiled as he held little Brie, "Nice to see you too, babe." he slowly stood with the girl in his arms, her 'Mom' walking in with a bag of McDonalds in one hand, and a large Sweet Tea in the other.

"Bro! It's like you know me or something." he chuckled, Brie laughing with him, though the miniature girl probably didn't understand its origins. But Matthew's motherly glow was exhausting, his gait stiff and face red as though he'd been crying.

"Mattie?"

Both twins came together in a swift embrace, Brie taking her father in her little arms as Matthew began to sob against his brother.

Alfred wasn't sure what to do, but it felt good to let it out too, fat tears falling down, washing his freckled on his cheeks, feeling free and drowning out whatever both boys had been holding back.

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**Oh! I wonder what's got Mattie all depressed! **

**And a little note. I know Alfred seems torn but to be exact, he was being faithful to Kiku, it was Russia that as puling him away. How Kiku found out, I guess will be a secret, (for now. :) )**

**Also, he feels like he has a deep devotion to protect Kiku after the bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Besides, to just leave from one partner to another so quickly with no remourse is a dick move, and Alfred is a genleman! **

**And if anyone can guess, Mattie's first pregnant craving is Sweet Tea! It was featured in the 3rd chapter and now! Can't wait for more brotherly love, bonding, tiny babies, Brie, and of course RusAme? Then leave a comment and wait patiently as more Drama unfolds! Sweet Seasons and Happy Holidays! **


	8. Swapping sob stories and mood swinging

"He just kept yelling about how I was 'being selfish' for wanting to keep the baby. That 'I was sacrificing our relationship' or something. Alfred, I never yelled so much! And dear God, I felt so angry...I can't believe that he'd even try to tell me that an abortion would be ok. And the look on his face! Like it was no big deal!"

After the brothers had finally cried themselves out, Canada and America had started to exchange stories. Matthew's soft cheeks were still wet with beads of tears, his long shirt sleeve soaked as he kept drying his face. His whole body was flushed a tender red, eyes ferociously angered and voice calmly holding back oncoming sobs as he continued.

"I tried to explain to him that nothing would change after the baby. But he kept going on about how he'd never be able to 'go out with the guys,' and that we'd never have alone time anymore. He sounded crazy. I called him crazy! And things got so heated, he-" there was a neat little pause, Matthew's eyes clouded over as if he was reliving some terrible nightmare. "I wasn't about to lay around and let him treat me like that. I took Brie and a few clothes and came here." the two boys took a long sip of whatever they were drinking, Alfred mulling the scene about in his head.

The purple and clack crescent moon shined sinfully against his brother's left eye, his glasses were broken in the middle, mended up with a little duct tape, and red finger prints stained his neck. Anger was sizzling a white hot through America's veins. No guy was gonna treat his brother like that and get away with it, especially since his beloved brother was pregnant.

"I'll kill him,"

"Don't worry, I gave him a run for his money. I guess all those hockey lessons really paid off." A cruel smile lit his aura, the Canadian taking another sip of tea. "Maybe those few broken ribs will teach him," the mother shook the Styrofoam cup, remnants of ice and watered down tea sloshing at the bottom. Canada gave a dissatisfied look and set it down.

"Did he touch Brie?" Both father and uncle suffered a look to the tiny girl who was paling around with Alfred's Golden Retriever out in the back yard. The dog was almost twice her size, but Zelda was mild tempered and played nice was kids.

"No, of course not, he knows better." Alfred had to admit he loved this side of his brother. America admired the protective air he had hanging about him, his hands resting lightly on his growing baby bump. "But, I'm sorry if I'm being a burden, I know I came on such short notice and I didn't even call to see if you were free!" Canada's sudden mood swing caught Alfred off guard as a fresh set of tears began to peek over Matthew's glazed violet eyes. Alfred stood up and sat beside his brother, taking him in his arms again, tying to soothe his nerves.

"No, no, it's cool, don't worry. If you ever need a place to stay, you knows it's okif you crash here. I was even getting kinda lonely, so you and Brie's company is actually a heaven send." Matthew's sadness cooled down as his brother spoke, mind suddenly remembering what America had said earlier.

"That's right, you have this whole house to yourself." a quizzical look beset Matthew's face, as if he was deep in thought, hand coming up to wipe his tears. But just as he was about to say something, the lock to the sliding door clicked loudly and dog and girl came bounding in, laughter and barking interrupting the Northern American Brothers' conversation.

"Mommy, Uncle Alfie! Look what I taught Zelda!" Brie waved her hands about as Zelda jumped around her in a playfully excited manner, tail just a wagging. Matthew gave a smile through his pained sadness, Alfred also giving a grin.

"Ok, ok, watch I taught him!" she turned her full attention to the dog who had quieted down, eyes on her. "Zelda, BOO!" Brie threw her little hands in the air as if to make herself bugger, scarier; poor Zelda growing stiff and rolling over, golden paws hiked up in the air as he relaxed on his back.

"I scared him to death!" Little Brie put her palms over her mouth before her laughter would snap Zelda from his trick. Finally she gave a shriek of joy, her padded feet jumping up as the dog flipped over, joining her in her victory dance.

Matthew began to laugh along with her as he stood, grabbing her by her waist and lifting her up to his lips, giving his little girl a tender Eskimo kiss as she hugged his neck affectionately. Her father then let her down, Brie instantly grabbing for Alfred, who threw her up into the air with a tiny toss, catching her softly as she squealed.

"Again, again!" the little girl yelled for more, America complying to her demands.

Canada stood back and watched as his brother held his daughter, their faces bright and cheeks aglow with excitement.

Even Alfred was laughing now, eyes shining with a happiness behind his glasses, a sound and sight he had grown to miss over the years.

'If only Gilbert could see this, how happy children make people.'

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**Hello viewers! So tada! Here it is! We found out that Canada is having husband issues, I guess him and America don't fall far from the tree, (If you don't remember, England and France aren't doing so hot either) :( **

**Anyway, we get to see that Alfred is awonderful child person, and Brie is possibly the cutest child ever! **

**OH! I also need help dear watchers! Canada is pregnant, no surprise, we all knew, but I, and our Canadian mommy doesn't know what t name it. :) Any ideas? On both gender and name? hahaha, love ya! **

**Before I leave, I'd also like to know your thoughts. Should I do a split story on both America and Russia's story and Canada/Prussia's story or do it separately. If ya'll don't care about Canada and Prussia's family problems and just want me to focus on our sadly not pregnant yet America, then say the word! I want to please all of ya'll so give me your thoughts! **


	9. Children bring happiness, so why?

**So here's the next part! Just after Christmas too. :)**

**Well, as a slight warning, this whole chapter is from Alfred's point of view. I just wanted to spice things up is all. Sorry if its too confusing. If you guys like it better the old way, tell me and I won't write from POVs anymore!**

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"And they lived happily ever after...The End." Soft crinkling of a book's aged pages closing lulled the child as her lavender eyes slowly shut, then fluttered open again as I lifted myself from her bedside.

"Wait, Uncle Alfie," Brie's voice was thick with a coherent sleep. I knew she had to be exhausted from the entire day, we had played and romped since about six this morning. I let Mattie sleep in for once, hopefully winning me some brownie points so when he awoke he would make his legendary pancakes without too much begging. :)

Win brother over for Canadian food: Success!

I knelt down at her side. "Ya babe? What's up?" I could feel a smile blooming on my lips as she sat up from under the quilt, tiny eyes suddenly wide and awake, as if I had flicked a switch with my answering her.

"Does Momma and P-papa still l-l-love each other?" the innocence of her question struck me swiftly in the heart as if Brie had driven an arrow right through me. Her curl was bobbing sadly as she hiccupped and tried to hold back exhausted sobs. Little hands reached for me as I caught her in my grasp.

"What? Oh, of course they do, what makes you say that?" her watery eyes were warm with tears as she wiped them against my shirt. I slowly brought her up to my eyelevel, hand strongly beneath her as I questioned. Her and Matt had been here for almost a week now, and never had any of us brought up Prussia.

"W-well...Papa y-yelled at Mama and-and he said that he didn't want us. He doesn't want Mama, or me, or baby Emile!" she buried her head into my chest, tiny fists clutching the t-shirt as she cried and cried. I tried to pacify her by running my fingers through her silvering curls, as if to tame her father's side, much like Canada had done to me.

I took in a deep breath, almost for my sake of buying me some time, as well as to calm my nerves. I was terrible at excuses, and her tears made it worse. What if I gave her the wrong advice? Or made it worse? I patted her back softly, and finally spoke the best I could.

"Look, Brie, I don't care what your dad says, I know he loves you and your mom. No matter what, I swear." I held one hand up and marked a tiny 'X' over my heart Brie's little fists rubbing at her eyes blindly, little hiccups swallowed as she hushed her sobs, eyes puffy and now shining with hope.

"R-really?" came a weak reply after she had quieted down, the budding of a smile showing through.

"Yep. And you know what? A friend of mine once told me that, 'When someone finds out they're pregnant, they become a Mother, but it's when a man sees his baby that he becomes a Father.'" With all my might, I gave the best heroic smirk I could and brought my arms around her in a tight hug her wet cheeks resting lightly on my shoulder. Her warm breath tickled. "He'll come back, don't worry Brie. I don't know how he can stay away from you. Children are important to every man. One of the proudest and happiest moments of a man's life is holding his child." She shifted in my arms then, bringing her trembling lips to kiss both my cheeks as she nodded to me, her curl bouncing again, and with a curious hand I pulled it back behind her ear. 'See Alfred that wasn't so hard.' I smiled beside myself that I had fixed this, the hero was successful yet again!

But a question still played at her brain, I could see it in her innocence, it sparkled, no glinted, in the low lamp light as a cheery smile lit her face.

"Then why don't _you_ have one? Momma said you'd be a perfect mommy, and I wouldn't mind if you had one. I would be a good niece, I'd play with it and love it. And you would play with her and me and Zelda!" a certain excitement bubbled up in her as she threw up her hands, exaggerating the whole story in a quick childish tongue. "Then you and Mama could be fat together! But it's a good kind of fat, cause you have a being inside you. Couldn't you and Kiku have one?" The complete string of information traveled through me, but I couldn't stop her, or slow her down.

But what I did hear was 'You and Kiku could have one.' It was like a force that had suddenly shoved me in the chest, breath yanked from my lungs, a head ache prodding back again. I heard broken parts of her rambling, and finally as she looked up at, she almost seemed to see the hurt in me, her voice growing weaker and weaker. My eyes blankly threw themselves about the room, looking for something, anything to stop this.

'She doesn't know any better.'

_'And neither do you.'_

"Whoa, Brie, a child...a baby is a lot of work, and I don't think it's for me. I have you and Baby Emile. That's all I need." my tongue felt slow as I said the words, almost having to pick my brain to find each of them separately. "And besides...Kiku and I don't see each other anymore. Remember? And it's hard to have a baby by yourself-"

"Ya, but can't you find someone else," she was whispering with me now, as if to try and be gentle with me on the topic. "Like maybe Russia. Mama says that you and Russia are on a special friendship basis, so I'm pretty sure that you two could pray real hard for a baby." I had to laugh nervously at that one, just the thought of Matt trying to get Gil to 'pray real hard' for a baby. If that was the case, then Gilbert had lied to God.

Licking my lips, I searched for something else to say to her, but not sure what exactly. But then, her words caught up to me. 'Russia and me? Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.'

"_Your_ mom said that? No, Brie its...there's more to it..." but my weak reply was interrupted.

"Uncle Alfie you even said that children make people happy! And I think you need some happiness now that you and Kiku aren't friends no more." She was being sincere, and it washed over me like a melting summer wind, one with lots of fallen red leaves and the sweet smell of home baked spiced pie. I fixed my glasses, mind still tumbling on what to say to her.

Finally I decided to simply give the 'parental excuse', something I had learned from Arthur long ago. "I'll think about it." I mustered a half hearted smile, and ruffled her hair, an exclamation and swatting hands my only answer from little Brie.

"Good night Uncle Alfie, I wuv you. And remember what we talked about," she pulled the covers up to her chin and wiggled to get comfortable, smiling wide as I bent down and caressed her cheek, her little freckles warmed and eyes closing against my touch.

"I love you too Brie. Good night," With a swift hand I brushed her bangs aside and kissed her forehead, the girl still giggling as I flicked off the light, my mind still mulling over the words that I had told her.

_'Yeah, Alfie, maybe a baby could have helped fix your relationship with Kiku. Too bad you were too fallen with Ivan to think about what really matters.'_

My mind argued with me and that hurt was coming back as I made my way down the hall. 'I know what I did was wrong, but...I just...I just don't know any more.'

_'I don't think you ever did know.'_

'And I probably never will.'

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**So Aldred talks to himself in his mind. It happens. lol.**

**And finally Brie spills what her Mama's baby is. ITS A BOY! And It sounds like Matt named him "Emile." It has a german and french form, so it kinda forshaodws the fact that MAtthew stillloves Prussia, no matter how much of an ass Prussia is. :) **

**Now alot of you guys are dying for a pregnant Alfred. THESE THINGS TAKE TIME! **

**And to be exact I have one more chapter (A brotherly one) before we see Ivan again. I know, know, I'm mean by doing this. But don't worry, Alfred will be pregnant by the end of the week! **

**Go Ivan go! **


	10. Never Have I Ever

**Hey ya'll. I've been thinking and thinking, and I've changed this chapter about three times. I wasn't sure where I wanted this to go, but tada, I think this is perfect! Well, in events anyway. **

**Rated a little M for the, ah, mature content, I guess, at the bottom. :) Everyone who has been commenting, thank you so much! And to my avid reads I'd like to say with out you guys, this story would go no where! **

**Please read and enjoy, and leave a comment on ideas, thoughts, anything that comes to mind. :) **

**OH! And btw, this chapter is the same night as the last chapter. Not too confusing. lol**

**-****In America's Bedroom the same night-**

"Alfred, I've been thinking," Matthew flipped the page of his book, "Mothers Can Do it All By Themselves", chuckling as his brother inched closer to his rounded belly, ear now pressed completely to his stomach.

"I'm listening, but you better be careful, thinking for you can be dangerous," America tried to stifle a laugh as Matthew rested his hard cover book on his head.

"Haha, your funny, Alfred. But seriously, hear me out. Now, you know I have to go off to France for a little while. I just need to talk Dad about a few things and other stuff," Canada raised a patient hand before Alfred could interrupt him. "Plus, I've been watching how you love taking care of Brie,"

"Of course I do, she's precious," America couldn't hold back his comment, eyes suddenly narrowing a sour hint in his voice. "By the way, when did you tell her that Ivan and I's 'special friendship' could end in me having a baby?"

Matthew's hands covered his mouth politely as he laughed a bell like tune. "She said that? Oh lord, no no, I never told her that! I just mentioned it might happen-"

"No. Matt, just stop there, I don't want to talk about it." Even though Alfred pressed his lips to his brothers stomach and kissed the little butterfly kicks, he still had more to say. "I'm not ready to have a child. I still sleep in till twelve o' clock, I never use 'appropriate language', I haven't actually had a home cooked meal in God knows how long. Matthew, I don't think a baby is for me. And after what happened with Japan..." there was a slight pause, Canada holding his breath as he brought a hand down to Alfred's, covering where he felt little Baby Emile's tags. "He wanted one so bad. It was like this attraction to carry a tiny entity all to your own, part you, and part the man you love." America swallowed his voice eyes and mind no longer in touch, he saw Kiku rounded, and simply glowing, voice gentle and kind. He shook his head, as if to say 'no' or maybe jostle up some other picture. "I denied him that. I was selfish and stupid," there was a braking in his voice, sentences crumbling, and his breath catching in his throat. Quickly, his brother loyally ran his fingers through his locks, calms moving down to catch his cheeks and turn him up to face him.

"I think you're just scared. And you have a good reason. Children take responsibility, and a lot of work, but Alfred, look at me." America shifted his eyes from his day dreams and focused on his brother, tethering them together with a forlorn gaze. "After I had Brie, I wouldn't change anything for the world. And you know what, maybe it was the children which pushed Prussia away from me, but I don't care. They're part of me, and I think you're just afraid. You're scared."

America opened his mouth against the simple statement, but his voice never came, he simply just couldn't find it in him to deny it. "But I..."he took another breath to steady himself, raw tears besetting his cheeks, "I'm so lost." Matthew's hands smoothed his brothers hair, moving to scratch his shoulders and finally roam up his neck.

"Don't worry, you just have to move on. Stop thinking about Japan, sop thinking about what was. If you live in the past, you won't accomplish a thing. Please, from one mother to another," Alfred's eye brows knitted in a little confusion, when he noticed that he had been caressing his brothers stomach the entire time. "You love children, and you want them. So does Ivan. You know, you two might not see it but when you guys are together, the whole world looks in balance. The way he looks at you," Canada leaned back on the head board, a light laugh glossing his lips as he smiled. "God, he loves you so much. I mean, you guys might not have seem like your together, but something pulls you guys closer, it's an attraction you two can't deny. Sure you two had a rough start, but look at you. I bet it took every ounce of you to say no to him," Alfred nodded heavily at the remembrance of before the last meeting when Ivan had captured him in the hall way, both men coming together after years of seeing each other, and they were brought into a kiss. Or was it something more? America remembered warm hands and a flushed heart beat, adoration buried deep into amethyst eyes.

"I stopped because Japan and I..."his heart twisted out of the revelry, Matthew stopping him before his mind had time to swing back to the Asian nation.

"He's no longer part of you. Nothing on earth is stopping you from having your forbidden passion. So I don't understand why you don't just go ahead and start your life."

The entire room brimmed over with a beautiful quite, almost a freedom, as if America had been read his rights, and now knew he wasn't guilty, he was no prisoner.

_'Chains are broken, wings are ready. Fly, fly, fly away.'_

"You're right, you're always right," he slowly drew up to catch his brother in a loving embrace, little Emile moving weakly beneath Alfred's touch.

"But I still have to go to France. And you worry me," he ruffled his brother's hair, awakening him from his drifting thoughts, both giving a gentle laugh. "So please, while Brie and I are gone, you will be safe."

"Of course, of course," he swatted away the tender hand, moving back to sit cross legged in front of him. "And when you see Pa, you'll tell him I said 'Hi' right?" Canada nodded in response, both thinking of their parents and the rocky relationship that had haunted them for decades.

"I didn't want Brie to grow up like we did. That's mainly why I left." Canada was somber now, America recognizing it was his turn to be the comforter.

"Come here," he almost whispered, Matthew falling against him with a heavy heart and stinging tears, hands clutching him as if to never let go.

**-The Next Day-**

America awoke alone the next morning, the bed still warm from where his brother had slept beside him, a simple note sitting beneath his glasses .

_"Hey Alfie, I had to catch my plane early, and I hated to wake you up when you looked so peaceful, so I just left this. Brie says she'll miss you and bring you back a souvenir and Emile is so active today, it must be that he misses all the love and attention of his uncle. :) _

_Please be careful and don't do anything stupid. Oh! And before I forget, someone called, but I was in the shower so I went ahead and let the machine get it. Anyway, I'll be back soon, can't wait to get together again. _

_Love,_

_Matthew. _

_P.S. - Thank you for everything. "_

Alfred stretched long and hard as he made his way down the stairs, the **'beep, beep' **of his answering machine growing louder and louder. With a tired hand he rubbed his eyes, a deep yawn growing as he pressed the button, the beep stopping.

"Hey ya'll, this is your hero talkin'. I guess I'm not here right now, ha-ha, so please just leave a message!" he chuckled at his message.

'God do I really sound like a hick? Come on now, I'll have to change that,'

"_Hello, Amerika?"_ Alfred's head shot up as he heard the thick accent on the other line, his stomach dropping a little as the voice continued. "_I guess I caught you at a bad time. I've just...well I've been thinking about some things, and when I heard about Japan leaving, God, I felt terrible. I didn't mean for him to just do that. I never meant to drive you two away from each other._" There was a savoring pause, as if Russia was thinking long and hard, maybe taking that time to let Alfred think as well. "_Anyway, I had called to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for a lot of things. I never meant for you to get hurt..." _The machine clicked off, Alfred still frozen at the recognition of the voice.

Now Alfred had known Ivan for what seemed like ages and never had he heard an apology for anything he had done, except when he was involved.

His throat was dry, words empty yet restless as he stared at the answering machine, as if to hear Ivan call back at any moment. A few moments passed, yet nothing. Finally, taking a deep breath, Alfred found the control to walk forward, joints aching him now as he found a nice pair of jeans that hugged his hips, a soft knit tee-shirt, and slung a jacket over his shoulder. "I have to tell him, today." His mind was set, and as he ventured out into the soft June morning, Something in Alfred felt revived, awakened, as if a veil had been pulled from his eyes, and shackles from his feet.

**-Down the street-**

Ivan was laying on his bed, contemplating. His chest was bear, he felt hot, sticky, stuffy even as he kicked the covers from him, just sheets and him on the bed this morning.

And the phone. True as always, he had picked up his phone, fingers hovering over "C" to dial China when he saw the first contact in his list. "AAlfred" he chuckled, remembering how the tiny American had said that by putting two A's no other person would have the chance of being Ivan's first contact.

'I don't think he ever knew we were falling in love.' He quickly tapped his friend's name and waited to hear the tired voice. Yes, one thick with sleep and simple on thoughts. But nothing came, just those lonely **ring, ring, rings**. And then his voice. It was dipped in caramel, and laden with a southern drawl, something he'd slip into when upset or when trying to be straight forward. Ivan loved the accent, and wondered if he'd speak to him like that when they'd-

His thoughts shifted, a knock busting the silence as he turned his head to look at the door, wondering who would disturb him. 'I'm so tired, yet I can't seem to sleep. Please, God, I'm sorry for messing around with the cherub that was already taken.' The knock resounded again, echoing louder through the empty rooms.

Dragging, he brought himself up out of bed, his mind a little bleary and placid as he rose, and the last thing he ever thought to see on the other side of his door was tiny America, eyes tender and kind, smile open yet silent, and arms bringing them closer together.

"You're here, I...I didn't think you'd come here." Russia kissed the top of Alfred's crown, an easy nature pressing back on him, no longer a thin wall separating them.

"I came home," Was Alfred's whisper as he stood high on tip toe, his lips closing tight around Ivan's Russia taken off guard at his willingness.

"But Japan, you and him-" there was deep concern, maybe a confusion in his voice as America shook his head, hands coming up to caress his flushed cheeks, a shaking snaking through him.

"No, no, it was nothing, it had always been nothing," the truth felt wonderful against his lips, and so did Ivan's skin as he pushed closer, the two moving into the house, door shut on a whim as Russia suddenly pinned the boy against the wall, a new emotion erupting from some unknown vice.

"So you'd just choose me like this. And you think I'd take you back?" The light in America's sadly began to dissipate, the fear of rejection and utter loneliness pooling in at Ivan's tone.

"What? But I thought this is what you wanted. You wanted me and here I am. All for you..." there was a breath. "Anything for you." both nations locked gazes, unmoving, motionless, reading the feelings that slid and melted over the other.

And that kiss. The two were almost wrestling, fighting for the victory as they panted, and held tight, hands not sure where to go, searching to reminding themselves of the curves and dips, the sighs and moans growing lovely and hot. Soon America gave up on winning, he knew that he no longer was the stronger one. He caved and let himself be broken by the patient, mild hands of his master, soft Russian spoken to him in a rush of lust and love.

His heart was torn open as he fawned over the larger man, white skin mixing so well with his tan, hands running slowly now as they mapped him out. It was as if Russia was the force pulling his blood from his heart to his limbs, willing him to live another second in this bliss.

"Again, again," his whispers were all that he had breath for as his mind swirled in some other world, locked up and hanging loose in between good and bad, right and wrong.

Russia was fond of the blushing cheeks and the warmth in his lovers shoulders. He was bare, and so lean beneath him, crushable, detainable, right in his grasp. Nothing was going to stop this, no other man waited at home for this American. He was all his now.

Strong hands found a tight opening, eyelashes closing softly as he felt the spot, barring a smile from bursting free. "Oh, my little virgin, I'll take care of you,"

Alfred turned his head, hands seizing up as a cold grip entered him, Ivan easily laying him back down with a palm against his chest. "Be still, luv, I have you," he rolled his tongue over his lips as America's eyes fluttered shut, a breath or scream somewhere buried in his chest.

"Ivan, I've never-" he felt the hand move up, the other sliding down from his chest to brush the tips of fingers on his thighs, drawing a shiver from his body. Again, he felt the pressings of fingers on his inner thighs pulling them apart, stretching him as Ivan readied the two.

"You may scream, or yell, or beg, I won't mind, my sweet loving dove." it was cruel, it was twisted, but as Ivan finally pushed himself, bare and whole, Alfred caught his breath and panted, something inside him crying out as it happened.

"Love me, love me." he whispered as he was filled again and again, biting his lip, moving his hands over Ivan's frame, sliding nails over his skin, earning goose bumps in return. Ivan was going to lose his mind, never had his body been through this, so pure, so carnal, and all his.

He pushed, and whispered, and felt the climax coming as America gasped, crying out as his hands brought him down, closer, deeper.

"Ah, Ivan, m-more, I-I-" the voice was lost to another moan and at last, a release, both men signing, Ivan fawning over America, who had tears set in his eyes, blonde bangs beautifully frazzled about him.

"Come here," Ivan laid beside him and pulled the boy close, showers of light kisses on his heated skin. Alfred's head was heavy, he could feel everything in him throbbing, lungs still trying to catch up.

"I love you," Russia licked his parted lips and drew America up for one last kiss, taking all of America's strength not to break it.

"I love you too," came the sleep laden reply, and for the first time in months, Alfred's mind had no argument for any of it.

* * *

**YAYAY! RUSAME SEX WOO! **

**For all of you reading, it has finally happened. Sorry the nine chapter wait. And just so we know, about a week has passed since Japan left, so I think make up sex is TOTALLY legal by now. ;)**

**Anyway, theres more to come in the future, a HUGE twist about to happen, and saddly, not much Canada after this. :( When ever I write with him in a story he becomes the center of it because he's just too lovely. :)**

**I hoped you guys liked! Please comment, it gives me the motive to write more! Happy Almost New Year! **


	11. The Proper Way for Loving

**Hey You Guys! I am SOOO sorry this one took so long. It's just I wasn't sure where I wanted this to go and I finally found it. :) **

**So TADA! Here this is, and I hope you guys like. Please read and feel free to comment. Comments make me happy. **

**Oh, and so we know, a few days, maybe a week, has passed since the last chapter. :) Yep. Lots of fluff and Ivan wanting a baby. Haha YAY! **

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Ivan had woken to a crisp somber sun and bustling breeze at his door step. June was threatening to be a hot fly by, and its welcome was warm as the Russia smiled, eyes twinkling at the thought of the summer coming.

But he had a job to attend to today, one that had been sitting on his mind since Alfred had come to him a few days before.

'He's not wearing his promise band. It's time for to start anew.' Nothing ever escaped Ivan's keen eye, and the cool stroke of the metal of Japan's old ring was one of them.

**-VV-**

Alfred had fallen asleep in his arms, aching, breathing, a hot wire of nerves, and awaking to the sleeping blonde nation aroused a new thought to Russia.

'He's too young to be on his own, though he believes otherwise. And without being tethered to something, to someone, well...he just can't function now can he?' He carefully stroked Alfred's hair, so slow and baited as if to not pull one curl out of place.

The lighter winced in his dream, biting his bottom lip softly and releasing a sigh. Ivan grinned and stifled a chuckle as he shifted to his side, looking over his guest with loving eyes and sweet smile. 'It can always be like this. He could live here and I would take care of him and our...'

The idea trailed with his amethyst gaze as he eyed the bare body beside him, skin braised and freckled, tight muscles still deliciously heated from last night's play. But there was a suppleness to him as he moved in his sleep, leg stretching slowly, lazing over onto his back with little effort.

'...our baby.' Russia leaned precariously, every movement so fluid with a cautious manner as he kissed right above his bellybutton, Alfred sighing as he felt a cool breath on his skin, hand moving to catch silvering locks in his grasp in a dreary dream.

'I need to show him that I'm serious. That I believe this is going to work out just fine.'

**-VV-**

The rattling of the leaves in the oak shifted Ivan in an excited pace as he strode forth on the sidewalk, toward a trusty pawn shop owner and dealer who was still indebted to him.

"Toris!" he called as the bell on the creaking door rang, greeting him with a vague familiarity.

"Oh, master," the Lithuania man immediately stopped his sweeping and propped his broom against a grandfather clock which was more for show than purchase. He greeted his visitor with wide emerald eyes which shined with gratitude. "What brings you here, and during the day no less? Vodka, you would like some, no? Or maybe you need to send letters back to your sisters?" he was trying to make himself busy around Ivan, bustling about the taller Russian who just stood stark still, only his eyes ardently following Toris as he tied his apron around his waist and found his way behind the counter, hands eagerly grabbing for a bottle. Ivan held out a patient hand and greeted him with a welcoming smile as well.

"No, no, I'm actually here on other business today." The Russian chuckled as he looked around the old pawn shop, refreshing his memory with every glance at knick knacks and shady items, the Lithuanian putting the bottle back in its place with a gentle 'clink'.

"A ring, if you'd please." Russia wasted no more time with his surroundings and leaned onto the checkout counter, and though his eyes did not meet Toris', he knew the message was clear as crystal.

With a swift nod, Toris took to work, and after a few brief moments of shuffling things around, he unveiled a velvet, cushioned board, various sizes and colors of rings glittering back in the low lamp light.

Ivan knew that Toris had taken out the best ones first, something many pawn owners never did without a 'special request', but when it came to Russia, Lithuania never tried to cheat him, or hold up his time.

The gems were generously sized and opulent, pure diamond and garnet, with emeralds and rubies decorating the golden bands, yet the Russian shook his head in a slow, disapproving manner. These were trashy, just too big, nothing catching his eye.

"Simpler Tory,"

"Sorry Sir," he apologized with a slight flush at the nickname the older man had said with such a sudden, quipped lilt. Lithuania set the stand back beneath the glass cover and took out another. They were almost all women's rings, with dainty bands and smaller cut stones.

"That one." So sudden Toris flinched at the answer, quickly picking it up from the others, Ivan nodding in agreement. Under the yellowing bulb, white gold band glinted beautifully, a soft inscription on the inside, still visible after wear. 'I will always love you.' Russia smiled at the script letters and turned it over in his light grasp. The gems were a small studded ruby, diamond and sapphire forming a clean tear drop shape. Simple. Elegant.

"Perfect." Toris gave a relieved smirk, as if it was the one he had known all along, and set the case beside the other.

"It's expensive though, Boss." he whispered almost gravely, Ivan merely laughing.

"Name your price," he replied loftily, giving Toris a chance to maybe make a good sale.

"I'll take $2,200."

The musty quite shifted as Russia's mood ebbed, eyes purely looking back at the owner.

"Ok," Lithuania broke, "I'll take $1,500."

"You can take it back." The Russia held the ring out in his palm, his friend sighing almost exasperatedly.

"Sorry, but times are tight. I haven't had a new customer since April. And just selling drugs like pot and meth out the back door only get you so far." The hospitality in his voice and gestures dried up as he took an almost defensive stance, though he never rose his tone from a spiteful whisper.

He was bristling as Ivan looked back at him with stony expression. Toris knew he could pay for it, he'd seen Ivan drive up in many luxurious cars and buy expensive items like watches, old paintings, and a good deal of liquor. And Lithuania had always given Ivan the lowest possible price, being good to him since he had saved him from the streets. How dare he walk in here with tailored made clothes and look down upon him and his merchandise. "I have a family too you know, and I can't afford to go back to giving my body just-" he cut off his string of hate, words stolen from his lips as money passed from Ivan's wallet and his hands slid it across the counter.

"$2,200 right?" he slipped the ring into his coat pocket, raising an eyebrow as Lithuania's features melted with guilt. "Tory, I saved you from the streets, I'm not going to put you back." His message was heavy and heartfelt as Russia turned to leave, raw remembrance stifling the air between the two, old friends.

There was a short pause as Ivan opened the door, the bell ringing again, announcing his depart as he turned his gaze, pinpointing Toris with a cruel smile and parting words.

"Even though those stripper heels suited you well."

* * *

**Toris...in...stripper heels...**

**Raise your hand if you'd pay for that. ;) **

**So my thought was a loose basic idea that Toris was a prostitute before he met Ivan, who in turn buys crap loads of stuff from the pawn shop so Tory never has to sell himself. **

**I won't answer the question, "Did they have sexual connections?" and "Who on Earth does Toris have a family with?" I'll leave that to you guys. lol.**

**Hope you enjoyed and would like to stay tuned for the next chapter. Whats coming next you might ask? **

**A new pregancy, a doctor's visit, some crying, comforting, and a few shocking details. **

**And Japan. Yes, he's in the next few chapters. SO GET READY! **


	12. Karma, thou art a heartless lover, no?

**Its been real hard to juggle school and writing, but I have finally finished this chapter! **

**So far, I would have to say, this is one of the unbalanced and twistyest chapters yet. Lots to find out. Lots of no details or answers to any questions. Don't worry. It'll all be revealed soon.**

**Oh, but we do have a character come in! Who thinks its Japan? CAuse you'd be right! lol.**

**Please read and enjoy, and comment if anything is not to your liking or if you have any questions. :) **

**I write to suit you guys. :)**

White. The absence of any color. Void of any of the slightest hint of shade. To Alfred, such a sight was unnerving to see on the walls, just as the ticking clock seemed to never change the time, and the lady at the front desk seemed to just type the same letters over and over on her neat little key board.

His fingers were drumming a song on the wooden chairs cushioned arm rest, though the lyrics weren't any particular ones he could remember at the moment. His mind was too hung up on other things than some old song.

Ever since he had gotten up this morning, his chest had been shaking, his breath hitched as he thought of what might be happening to him. Pregnancy. It seemed so far away, yet within a single brush of fingers as he sat feeling so small and inconspicuous as he half mindedly brought his feet up into the chair, curling in on himself as he waited patiently behind a thin facade of calm.

Alfred had to swallow every breath as he willed himself to stop shaking, he wasn't cold, but looking around, the colorless walls looked frozen and ruthless, the clock's bare face and script numerals were like chiseled ice. Everything was closing in, inching forward, leaning slowly as if to squeeze the sun from his veins, or the sky from his eyes.

"Mr. Alfred?" HIs eyes darted toward the tiny voice, a woman hiding behind a thick fringe of bangs as she repeated his name again. "Mr. Alfred Jones? I need you to come back with me." A sweet smile broke against her cheeks and Al found himself catching the light in her eyes and smiling too.

He gave a swift nod and brought himself up, feeling a melting strength drizzle over him as he approached her, and as they walked down the hall way, he could sense a courage nestling itself inside his bones. 'Count to ten Al, just calm down, it's all ok.'

_'One._'

"My name is Ashlyn Croswell, I'm your doctor while Kate is out on leave..."

_'Two._'

"...I know you called about a pregnancy test, to check things out..."

_'Three_.'

"These things aren't anything to worry about, I swear. Please hold out your arm..."

_'Four_.'

"...you're vitals are good, blood pressure a little high, could just be nerves."

'_Five_.'

"...I'll need a urine sample now, please use the restrooms at the end of the hallway." Another shy smile as she handed him a small cup and he nodded in acknowledgement. The counting had helped him stop his quivering, it took his mind off the endless thoughts and mind blowing voices who seemed to haunt him. But the pretty little doctor's voice couldn't overpower the counting, a lot of what she was saying went in one ear and out the other. But he could do this.

A swift look to the clock. Ten after nine. Wherever Ivan had stolen away to as Alfred had slept, he hoped that Ivan would stay there longer than Alfred was here. This was mostly a whim as the days grew longer between their first time and the present. Each time Al could feel himself filled with warmth and life, but what if he had caught something? What if a tiny little entity had attached itself to Alfred and was never going to let go until nine months was over?

'It's there Alfred, can't you feel it? It's sucking away at you, like some leech.'

'Ivan is in his prime, he's had you so many times that there's no way you're not pregnant yet.'

'What if nothing is wrong? Hmm? What if you have no baby and you go home empty, and Ivan learns that you can carry no child? That's all he wants you for, you know?'

"Just count," a sigh silenced the shivers as he came back from the bathroom, handing the cup to a woman who had held out a marker and wrote a few things on the blank label. Doctor Ashlyn was waiting in the room, back against the wall as she scribbled down a few things on the clip board.

_'Where was I? Oh ya, six_.'

"You're in prime health Mr. Jones. I don't see any reason for there to be a problem with any pregnancy..."

'_Seven_.'

"...I have many pamphlets you can take home that draw out the basic course that will be taken for pregnant men, I can even pencil you in for another appointment...'

'_Eight_.'

"Oh, here are your results, I bet you must be a little nervous, don't worry, everyone is their first time..."

'_Nine_.'

"Oh, Mr. Jones, It seems that you..."

_'Ten!_'

"Not pregnant. Sorry, darling." there was a slight pout to her glossed lips as she let out a breath and highlighted a few things with a drawn brow.

"What?" the voice was so tiny that Alfred at first didn't even believe that it came from his throat.

"You're not pregnant, Mr. Jones." Ashlyn's hand gently squeezed his shoulder in a friendly, knowing way, as if she could feel him coming undone by these raw, cut off words. "I know you must have been expecting the worst, but there's no worries. You're no more pregnant than I am an astronaut." the little humor was not as sweet to his ease as his soul liked to have received, but a breaking, relieving sort of effect came over him none the less as he took in a deep breath, eyes closed, his tongue wetting his dry lips as he spoke.

"Oh...I...I'm glad. I mean, a baby wasn't really planned, I...I really didn't even think, you know." the entire spiel was chopped and hoarse, but calming none the less as he let them out. "I-" Alfred bit his lip this time as Dr. Ashlyn simply nodded and helped show him toward the front desk, here he paid the fee and soon found himself out the door.

So quick.

So short.

It was as if the entire thing had never happened.

Alfred had thought that the news should have been a soothing thing, something to press back the prickling feeling that had been ruffling him all week, but the echoing words seemed to hurt him even more. Half of him had thought that he was pregnant for sure, and that the baby would be a blessing that Russia and him could fall entirely in love with, but the other reminded him of the realistic possibilities. He'd gain weight, it would test their relationship. The two weren't married, who said that Ivan wouldn't leave at the sound of his pregnancy? The entire thought was vanquished as he remembered hot hands rolling over his stomach, lips at his ears as they mingled.

'I want you carrying my child,' the words crumbled America's thoughts as if sand in the palm of the ocean's hand and swept away the bitter, ashy remains.

'What if I never get pregnant? Would he still love me then?'

It was a double edged sword with which Alfred thought he was tampering with, and the more he thought about it, the more he wished that the entire thing could be melted down to simpler times, like things had been with Kiku.

**-VV-**

Japan's bangs were messily sticking to his forehead with sweat, his stomach heaving again as he let out another moan, entire frame visibly weakening as he tried to stand. His hands grasped desperately to the porcelain sink, knuckles white as he catching his breath, a nauseas sweep clawing at him though he knew the morning sickness was over.

"You feeling ok?" Greece's voice was pure gold and sorrow as he came into the bathroom and embraced Japan, holding him up as Japan's knees gave way to utter defeat. "You've been sick for days, should I take you to a doctor?"

The small nation shook his head as he grabbed a towel and wiped at his trembling lips with care. "I'm fine, just a little...ah, flu is all. Thank you," there was gratitude in the simple sentence, and it's sound gave Greece a prideful swell in his chest. He adored taking care of Japan, he was solely alive for that purpose at times, to just take care of the Asian country. After they'd romp and play, after each time Greece had dominated over his small companion and was graced with the pleasurable sounds and words, he was there to kiss away the pain, to bring back the love to Japan's life since America had torn it up.

But worry was written on each feature as he pulled back the blackish locks, savoring the way they fell like silk against the crème base of Japan's throat. "Are you sure? I'll do anything,"

"I know, please, just be kind as always, and I'll be fine." Dark brown eyes, like liquid chocolate and caramel, met Greece and his fears were ebbed a little while longer as his hands cupped his blushing cheeks and kissed him on his rose bud lips. Strong hands helped Japan back to bed, and sweet nothings helped Greece fall to sleep as the clock chimed one AM. But it was the tiny little thoughts that kept Kiku awake. Especially the idea that he was pregant, but absolute no idea with who the father might be.

At last, it was tears that brought Kiku to rest, and dreams of Alfred that woke him in the morning.

* * *

**So...basicly, Alfred is NOT pregnant. Kiku is. **

**This makes me sad. :( lol. I know ya'll feel the same way. **

**This is only part of the twist. Believe me it's going to be a hell of an adventure as we try to figure out who Kiku's baby's father is. And if Alfred can even have children. **

**It also looks like they miss eachother...AWWWW. You AlfredxIvan fans hate me don't you? :) **

**Don't worry, all will be well. I think. **

**BTW. Greece is possibly the greatest BF ever. Just saying. Cast your vote now. haha **


	13. Welcome Home My Angels

**Home sick with the Flu is bad for me but good for you! I was able to write a little bit more, and to many of you RussAme Fans, here is lots of Fluff and Stuff.**

**Maybe a week has passed since Alfie found out he wasn't pregnant. Which by the way, is being helped along by a good little child we have all come to love. :) **

**OH! And there's both Ivan's Point of View, and Alfred's Point of View! Probably the longest chapter I have! **

**I hope this makes up for the last chapter, since there was so much hate in the last couple messages I've recieved. lol. I love all the things you guys send me. **

**Enjoy! **

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**Ivan's POV**

As much as I adored the city and its never ending roar of traffic and people, Alfred seemed to tire of it all too quickly. There was a dull demanding in his eyes, as he looked out the window, mind lost in an intimate contemplation as the cars zoomed past in the mirror of his gaze. Sometimes, he'd fold his hands underneath his chin and give a sigh as his golden lashes rested slumber like against his cheeks.

This entire week he hadn't been himself, and I was beginning to worry that maybe, it was me. Had I upset him somehow? Maybe life was monotonous at times, but he'd been perched there for days.

Unmoving.

Restless.

Caged up.

With a blithe smile I brought him a cup of cool lemonade, something I knew his older tastes would worship on this hot July day. "Here you go," At first, he didn't react, just took in a breath and then slowly turned, his eyes then smoothly looking up to me, that smile coming back as if a lie was sparked.

"Thanks," he eagerly took the glass, whose light perspiration must have felt so cool to his touch. His lips pursed around the rim and he took a few sips, my eyes never leaving his throat as his Adam's apple bobbed sweetly with each gulp.

"You know," he started after licking his lips, "One day I'll take you back home and show you how to make real lemonade, not the stuff you stir together." I adored how Alfred leaned back in the chair and took another drink, his poise so natural and friendly as if he could fit anywhere in the world, like some universal puzzle piece that belonged everywhere in the picture.

"Home," I mused, taking a drink from my own prepared glass, thought I had to hold back the pucker of my face. Lemonade was always sour to me, no matter how much sugar I had generously stirred in. "Like your old apartment?"

There was a honey like ring to his laugh as he tossed his bangs aside and glanced in my direction, "No, no, I meant to the South, my old home, the true home." Such words seemed so easy for him to speak, as if there had been no horror planned or executed there. Many times, Alfred would think back to the days of old southern slavery and grow so sad, but now I understood that those had been washed away eons ago. He meant the country, that's what he missed. A place of grandmothers with butter churns and mothers with aprons full of fresh apples. Maybe a smoke house out beside the barn, an old, run down station wagon keeping watch beside sycamore and pecan trees. Pies in window sills and dances in the church. That's the south Alfred had always loved.

"Hey Ivan," his voice was slow now, biding, and it woke me coldly from my thoughts. "I have a few things to pick up at my house, I'll grab them real quick, ok?"

The sudden change in mood and conversation was a little out of place, but with my little sunflower, not everything was put in a schedule or ever followed out as it should.

"Of course, I'll go help you,"

"No, it's cool, I got it all. You just stay here, ok big guy?" I closed my smile and swallowed whatever it was that I was going to say as he quickly grabbed a coat and disappeared out the door.

The house instantly lost its color, the light sucked right from its core as the source of life had escaped through the door. Anger curled deep inside my stomach, but I brushed off the emotion and downed the last part of my lemonade with a sulking shake of my hair.

Why did it seem like he was constantly leaving, as if our hit and run routine was back in the stir of things, and the fact that I had gotten more than I could ever wish for had nothing to do with anything anymore.

A knock on the door roused me as I stretched up, half mindedly thinking it was Alfred coming back to retrieve a key or something. The child was so forgetful, it was amusing, but at times it was worrisome for me. He was grown, he should at least deal with basic things. "Alfred, I knew you'd be back, luv," I smugly smiled wide as I opened the door, though it wasn't Alfred on the other side, but his exact twin Mathieu. "Oh! Mathieu, my apologies," I could feel my facing burning with embarrassment.

"Haha, Ivan, it's not a big deal. Really, I've had worse happen when people mistake us for the other. Prussia once jumped him and had his pants half way down by the time he saw that it was Alfred, not me." There was a chuckle, something lonely and exhaustingly hallow as Canada relived the moment, some hidden thing inside his eyes as I watched him place a soft hand on his growing stomach, the girl beside him smiling up to me. "Any way, I came to see Alfred, but I'm guessing he's gone,"

"Yep, barely missed him," I moved from the door way and swept an arm to show him in. "But please some inside, you can wait for him here. I'm not too sure how long till he'll be back, but I can at least be a good enough host to let you in and rest awhile, especially in your condition," I regained his laughter as he was awoken from his day dreams and memories. He was simply glowing as he strolled in, the girl following like a loyal pup, and sitting beside him as he found comfort on the couch.

"So Mathieu, other than your brother, why else have you sought us out? What have you been up to lately?" I offered him Alfred's barely touched glass of lemonade but he shook his head in declination.

"Just came home from France and hoped to talk to Al, our family isn't holding up well." I could pinpoint the dark cloud of some story arising, though I didn't want to interfere or seem like I was pressing too hard on their business.

"Anyway, I was hoping Alfred would be here so I could talk over some things with him. I've been trying to patch things up with Gilbert, but I'm too much of a coward to bring Brie with me. I thought since Al was all home alone, he could take her for a few days until I sort everything out. He wasn't home, so I thought maybe I'd find him here," his curl bobbed a little as he looked about the house, as if he might find Alfred hiding behind a bookcase, or he was afraid to look me in the eye. His lips were pulled back in a cherry like smile, though his eyes seemed to be glimpsing somewhere else entirely, and the girl, who I was guessing was Brie, looked so much like her mother and father, was a real jewel herself. Her stockings were blue with white lace and the knee, her dress coming down in lovely folds, matching her sky blue head band. She looked like a cloudy sky, one you might sit back and watch to make out pictures of animals in the stratosphere.

"Of course we'd love to take her in, I don't see any problem," Canada looked across the table to me, violet eyes warming as if I had given him the best news in the world.

"Are you sure? I don't want her to be of any trouble," his voice was riddled with maternal fawning, but as I raised from my seat and took his hand, I gave a smile and kissed his hand.

"It would be no problem, Mathieu, I give you my word. She is as much your daughter as she is Alfred's, which makes her at least a little of mine. the little child reached out to me and I took her in my arms, something that Canada must not have been able to do since he had gotten so big and I hugged her, her silvering curls smelling of maple and roses.

"Oh Ivan," his voice was tender and smooth, something I missed sometimes as I reminisced about our time together before, and he wiped a tear from his eye. All those hormones must have made him overly emotional because he soon gave me a hug and kissed my cheek chastely.

"Thank you, I really do thank you," he turned toward Brie who was pulling on the curves of my scarf, and pulled a smooth hand through her bangs, tucking them behind her ear. "You be good for him, you understand? And mind your manners while mommy is away." As Brie turned to him for a hug and kiss goodbye I couldn't help but think of how Alfred would be when we had our child.

Would we have a girl? Boy maybe? Would they look like him, maybe me? Something behind my heart was drumming away with a great fluffed emotion and as Mathieu waved to me, I gave a good hearted smile and turned back to Brie.

"Would you like to help me with something?" I asked, her innocent eyes grinning back as I set her down and she gave an enthusiastic nod.

"I'd love to help Uncle Ivan!" she took my hand and my heart gave a flutter of pure joy.

"Then could you help me with Uncle Alfred's surprise I'm going to give him?" She was excited at the sound of Alfred's name, as if she hadn't seen him in years.

How it must feel to be loved so much by a child who didn't even come from you.

**-VV-**

**Alfred's POV**

It wasn't like I was trying to be rude to Ivan when I told him not to come. But as I leafed through my things back at the house, I knew I would have cried had he seen me like this.

Zelda stuck his nose in all my business as I went about the house taking down all the pictures of me and Kiku I owned, from the time I had surprised him with a homemade picnic, to the one where I had paid a ferry to let us go to see Lady Liberty, and even the one China had taken of us at the meeting, where Japan had dosed off, his head lulled on my shoulder, my hand over his as we listened to England drone on.

Each one brought painful sounds and smells with them, memories that I had grown to hate over the week of being away from him. But no matter what, those things were in the past, and over all, had to be forgotten, right?

Zelda nudged my hand as it lingered on the frame of one innocent picture, this one just of Kiku sleeping peacefully, and I set it down in the growing pile with all the others.

"I know boy, it's over." he leaned into my touch as I scratched the top of his head, turning so I could get behind his ears before I got back to work. "It's just hard to forget something that had been such a big part of my life."

It must have been two hours before I had finished up, the rest of my clothes packed, my boarder told that I was no longer needing the rented room, and my furniture put up in a storage room for sale in a few days.

Zelda kept close to my heels so I wouldn't forget him, and as we both piled into my car, I felt a little weighed down. The last time I had thought of moving, I had always pictured it being back to the country to a little white house I had stayed in with Mexico and Canada during the Revolutionary War. I guess dreams change with age huh?

The drive was languid and boorish, the radio playing nothing but talk radio and a few pop songs that were overly remixed and played back over and over. But at last, I made it to Ivan's house, hoping that he didn't mind I had brought my dog, I hadn't thought to ask, nor did I take into account that he was mostly a cat person. Sometimes I felt like I did no thinking what so ever. Just lots of actions.

Stupid actions.

Childish actions.

**-VV-**

"Ivan!" I called as I opened the unlocked door, Zelda nudging it open with an eager nose as he made his way inside, sniffing about the new place and romping on the couch as he took a pillow in his mouth.

"No, no! Zelda, sit!" he complied with a happy wag of his tail, ears cocked as if to listen for another fun command and be useful, but as I looked about the place, I gave none, just wondered whatever happened to Russia.

The bedrooms were empty, Zelda roaming upstairs to check out the second level, and there was no trace of anyone in the kitchen. I turned toward the living room when I caught sight of something that I hadn't seen in a long time.

On the couch, resting so soothingly was Ivan and Brie, the little girl on top of him and curled toward his warmth, her fingers coiling around his loosened scarf, his arms protectively around her in sleep. His breath was even and soft, Brie's little form rising and falling with his chest as she yawned and brought her knees up in a dream, Ivan's bangs falling into his closed eyes, shadowing his tender, blushing cheeks.

I stood in the door way for a minute with my breath held so not to move any fiber of the world, and I couldn't believe how real the entire thing looked. Ivan with a child seemed natural and meant to be, his tender personality braising through, seeming un-harmful and completely innocent.

It was hard to believe that a few years ago, he had been holding a gun to my temple, pleading to keep the Cold War going so we'd have something to do with each other. Whether it was love or hate, it didn't matter, as long as it involved both of us spun into some passionate spiral.

Cautiously, I tiptoed lightly in my socks over to the pair, and kneeled down, seeing how each line of his lips were soft and trembling, how his eye lashes shone almost white in the light of the overhead lamp.

"You're beautiful," was all I could say as I took his cheeks in my cupped palms and tenderly kissed him, hoping not to wake the angels of my life. Ivan leaned a little closer, pressing so lovingly back as I pulled away, bringing my lips back to his once more.

The warmth of sleep and a drowsy effect was heavily laid upon him as he lazily opened his eyes, smile widening as I came into vision.

"You're home, Sunflower, I didn't know," I nodded as he gave a sigh, hand absent mindedly brushing through Brie's curls. "Canada asked us to watch over things while he confronted Gilbert," I nodded in answer as he closed his eyes again, still tired and a little disorientated from being stirred from sleep.

"That's good. He'll make things right," I confidently traced slow circles on his cheek with my thumb, his shoulder moving up as he leaned toward me.

"Come, lay down," his voice was laden with a thick, thrilling accent, my eyes closing with pure pleasure as I thought of that voice, and with a slow movement, he moved himself closer to the crook of the couch so I could fit, and when I had laid down comfortably, he set Brie between us both, the tiny girl never waking as she put her nimble arms around both of us.

"It's perfect," he whispered, his lips on my neck, breath warm and like silk as I held back a laugh.

"I know, with you everything is perfect," I was easily pulled into slumber and the last thing I remember him whispering was a deep, heartfelt, 'I love you,' as he kissed me one last time.

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**Now to the real business. :) **

**I wonder what 'suprise' Ivan and Brie have for little America. **

**And I know you guys are DYING for PreggoAmerica, but please be patient, its coming...soon...maybe...I'm not sure. lol.**

**These things do take time. Maybe a day, maybe a month. Any one want to take guesses on his/her birthdate? hahaha.**

**Oh, and I've been thinking on putting some PrussiaxCanada fixing, FrancexEngland fun, or even some GreecexJapan fluff, but its up to you guys. :) **

**Mostly RussAme right? Lots of good sex so theres more chance for a baby? haha. I'll try to update soon. **

**And remember, the more comments, the easier I can write, and the eaiser I can write, the quicker I get it out to you guys! **

**All of my readers are like my blood and pulse! Thank you soooo much! :] **


	14. Love is Like Losing Your Balance

**For the Record, this chapter has no RusAme in it what so ever. haha. Dont you love it? But there's tons and tons of FrancexEngland so please read. **

**This chapter was supposed to be shorter, but as I started writing...I kinda got a little fluffy, and TADA! :) Hope you like.**

**For those who don't like this couple, but don't want to be left out if u don't read, then the only imporatant thing to take from this chapter is that England and France are going to Alfred's for dinner.**

**For everyone else who has the right mind to love French and English love, here you go. :) **

**Please read and comment, I do so love me some comments from my beloved readers! **

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England was tightening the tie that was ribboned around his throat like some great red gash against his white button up t shirt which was tucked in a neat pair of ironed slacks, and offset with a wonderfully black blazer which he had artfully swung over his shoulder.

Today him and France were going to America's place for dinner in celebration of Alfred and Ivan's relationship, though Arthur hated the thought of seeing both Francis and Ivan in the same place.

France because, well, let's be honest, it was France, and Ivan because whenever Arthur looked him in those violet eyes, he always thought he saw the horrible things Russia might have done to his beautiful baby boy. England's mother complex always played up when thinking about those two's relationship. No matter how much Alfred swore Ivan had quick drinking and had calmed down rather well after the Cold War and Communist Eras, England still got goose bumps at the thought.

'If I so much as even sense something wrong, I will take it into my own hands to fix it and make it clear that Alfred isn't someone you can just take control over like some small island.' His sour mood wasn't made any better with the fact that he had to go pick up Francis in twenty minutes, a reunion he wasn't sure he could stomach any more.

The two's marriage had crumbled a few years after the twins had been born, France never understanding that being a parent was a constant deal. He had been a good father for the first part, he absolutely adored holding the baby boys as they slept, dressing them in matching out fits and even reading a few books to them in French, though England would always interrupt and scold him for using that 'terribly, gutter like language.' England would never admit that for the first few chapters, he had been listening at the doorway, utterly in love with the soft lilt and gorgeous silk like quality to his lover's voice.

But as the years continued, France was away more often, though England was caught up with twin toddlers and their growing diverse cultures, that he barely ever noticed. His entire life revolved around his loud and boisterous Alfred and quite, gentle Matthew. Of course he wasn't ignorant enough to think that his husband hadn't slipped back to his old ways, but to Arthur, what was out of sight was out of mind. As long as he had his babies, he was happy.

The beginnings of a tear lined his eyes as he swept it quickly away with the back of his hand with the remembrance the good ol' days. Of course his mother hood didn't last long, Alfred's rebellious teenage years and constant need to show his independence had pushed Arthur away, and Canada soon moved out soon after. By now, France had already picked up his seventh mistress, and as everything burst from its stitches, England had been thrown from his home sweet home, back to the days before he had a close knit family and he was alone in his vast empire. That was the last time he had believed love was possible. Of course his sons still loved him, everything soon smoothed over, but it seemed the marriage would always be cracked.

**-VV-**

The drive wasn't far, but as Arthur tried to pick through his emotions, he dreaded every single minute as he sped down the high way in his black Prius, eyebrows drawn in deep contemplation as he pulled into the drive way, though no lights seemed to be on in the house.

Worry was set deep in his veins as he drew back the brass knocker on the door and clicked it three times. His eyes darted to see if there was any movement in the house, but the lace curtains where closed tight to the outside world.

_'Ah, bloody git, open up_,' he mentally cursed, slamming the knocker harder this time, though no answer rewarded him, green eyes furious now as he tried the door knob, which miraculously worked on his first attempt, clicking open as easily as if he had turned a key or said the magic word.

The house's innards were dark and crisp, the smell of heavy wine stagnant and heavy set in the stale air. He moved through the open foyer as if he hadn't ever left its high set French walls and open corridors years and years ago.

The living room was to the right, followed by the dining room and kitchen, the two places Francis could always be found. Cooking was his hobby, he adored making meals that people fawned over and complimented, but today, the entire area was busted up with knocked over chairs and shattered plates on the tile floor. The scratch and replay of a record kept looping over and over, the volume barely an audible whisper in the house as he made his way to the bedrooms.

France's door was partially cracked, and its eerie creak as England pushed it open froze ice in his veins as he stepped through, seeing his best friend and lover of centuries, passed out on the carpet, his lips slightly parted in slow, faint breaths, fingers still coiled around the neck of a wine bottle, whose mouth was uncorked and still dripping red drink onto the floor.

"Oh Francis," he gave an angry scowl as he knelt down and grabbed him by his open shirt collar, pulling him up to a sitting position against the king sized bed. The Frenchman bit his lips in his dreams, eyes tightening as he whispered something under his breath, hands struggling to grip the person who was moving him.

"Easy there, hey stop," he swatted the hand as Francis slowly, drunkenly, opened his eyes, the shadowed violet of lost sleep lining his lovelorn gaze bewitchingly.

"Arthur?" He groaned as his consciousness came back in ebbing and pulsating pains. "What...what are you doing here? Am I dreaming, please say I'm not, Arthur, please," his begging disgusted England as he lifted himself from his leaned back position, brushing the curled bangs back from his young face, marveling at how unkempt he looked.

"You're a disgrace, look at yourself. I came to drive you to Alfred's house for a family dinner, but seems like you can't stay sober for a few hours huh?" the voice was supposed to be laden with hate and bitterness and years of scorn, but instead, there seemed to be some kind of caring emotion, something mixed with worry and concern. He had to fight back tears as France leaned his head back, closing his eyes with the remembrance of the dinner, knowing that yet again he had let his boy down.

"I...God, I didn't mean to, I just...I had a few friends over, I don't remember," Francis was growing utterly frustrated as he tried to justify his actions, but as he looked back at Arthur's stoic glare, the one you would use on a child you know is lying. He had always been the mature one, he always knew the right thing to do. In France's eyes, England was untouchable and out of his grasp. That's why he had stopped trying. For so many years, he had kept himself away, because he knew such a lovely person didn't need a child to raise like him. He needed a good, well balanced family man, something Francis could never be. "Arthur, you know I wouldn't do this on purpose, to get out of seeing my son,"

"Just shut it and let's get you cleaned up," the softness in his voice was like cool water to France's ears, and as he took his friend's hand and stood with his help, he felt so honored to be picked up and be put on the right path again.

**-VV-**

Arthur had to do most of the work as he heaved France into the bathroom, getting the man stripped to his boxers and running the shower on full blast, ice cold. The two as college dorm mates had made it a ritual, to always try and fight their hangovers together with cold, brutal showers, each clinging to the other in a wet mess of liquor and friendship, a few heated kisses making the shower a little enjoyable to the touch. England scrubbed him clean, almost until his porcelain skin was red raw, reminding himself of each curve and delicious dip as he wet him down with more body wash that masked the musky smell of wine with bathing salts that had a hint of vanilla and roses. He always smelled like vanilla and roses.

France's hair, sopping wet and straightened by the heavy stream of water, fanned out about his scruffy face, chin a little unshaven, licking his lips as Arthur rubbed him down one last time, only, instead of the rough sponge, Francis could feel soft hands and fingertips gliding over him now.

The water was suddenly wrenched off, England turning now to grab a towel, handing it to him as he gathered tooth paste and a tooth brush.

"You can finish the rest, you lazy frog. I'll go call Alfred and tell him we might be a little late," the Englishman turned quickly as he shut the door behind him, heart wrapped up in a passionate beating from their mingling, trying hard to hide the burnt scarlet on his cheeks.

France had held up a hand to stop him, or pull him back, but the fight had left his soul. _'I'll never amount to him. He was right_,' the Frenchman turned to the mirror and looked himself over, just like he had done a million times before, but this time, there was nothing proud in his shallow sapphire eyes, the luster gone after years of misplacing it on random women he had picked up from shady places. _'I'm falling, Arthur, ever since I met you, I've been falling. That's what love does. It pushes you over an edge and you can't recover. But with you, after I hit bottom, you picked me back up, just as loved pushed me over again. Is this how I'll spend all my years? Forever falling for the man that I know I'll never ever come close to touching?_' he had rubbed most of the water from his locks, but a few drops still clung to the stray ends, sitting on the cusp of the curl and slowly beading until the fat water drops grew too heavy and fell. His hangover was soothing over really nice, though it always had when he had the thought that Arthur was waiting for him.

He went to his closet and picked out a nice open v neck cotton shirt, with billowy sleeves and cuffed wrists. France then slipped into a pair of jean dress pants, black and tight around his legs as he leaned back on the bed to button the silver clasp. It felt refreshing to dress up again, and for the last accent, he grabbed a rose from the tipped over vase, whose water was pooling on the cedar chest, and pinched off each thorn with care. 'It's all I have, but it's something, no?'

**-VV-**

England had cleaned up most of the house, drifting from room to room, occupying his time with gathering dirty dishes and straightening the sheets on the beds. He had picked up the chairs and slid them elegantly under the table, sweeping the broken glass into the trashcan and even loading the dish washer. It reminded him of when the entire family lived together again, like it was an afternoon like every other.

Alfred would have dragged Matthew in from playing outside, both covered in mud and the rich smell of earth, the two smiling as they waited for their lunches, Francis fixing something delicious and cleverly kid friendly, Arthur cleaning up due to his lack of cooking skills, since he couldn't even seem to boil water right.

_'Haha, but you still ate whatever I made with a smiling face didn't you Francis?_' he soaked more dishes in hot water and suds as he remembered the happy times, filled with growing boys and a caring lover.

"Arthur, you didn't have too," his own name scared him as he was jerked from his day dreams and back to the real world.

"Oh, France, God you gave me a heart attack." he turned back to give the blonde a look over, noticing the almost languid poise and lovely clothing choice. "And I had some free time, it's no big deal. I like to clean, you know that," he tore his eyes away from the tall, model like man and set himself back to work, scrubbing away at the dishes a little rougher than needed.

There was a light chuckle behind him, something honest and clear as peeling church bells as France came up behind him, the Britain tensing softly for the grope of greedy, scalding hands. But none never came.

Instead, a simple brush of fingers through the back of his hair, curling and creasing as they ran through them again, chills raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

"You always had such beautiful hair, _Angleterre_, so stylishly short and soft," he moved away from the touch, France's hand dropping as he was so easily brushed off. England half expected him to keep persisting, in that childish, perverted way, but as a few moments passed, nothing simply happened, both men standing still and quite.

"Why are you so cruel, mon cherie?" was the only sad reply he received as Arthur let out the dishwater, each plate drying on the rack now as he turned around to confront France.

"Me, cruel? How dare you-" his dark voice stopped in his throat as he saw Francis smiling somberly, eyes like two, thin pools over spring water, clear and hazed, something mocking and playful, but too tired or too broken to actually do so, dancing behind his thick lashes. The stubble on his chin gave him an older, brotherly sort of look, Arthur remembering all too well how it felt when they kissed so close in the dark of midnights passed.

"You just look pathetic, Francis," he gave up on trying to hide anymore, a deep smile curving his lips as he brought his arms around his neck, leaning into the familiar crook with a gentle ease.

France took the embrace as if he'd never let go, wrapping the man tightly in his arms and holding them so close, he thought he might hear their own pulses. "I've been falling, Arthur,"

"I know, I know," there was barely a kiss on his lips as England stood on tip toe to bring the two together. "But I've caught you now."

For a few seconds, France was practically walking on air with those words, and remembered what he had been thinking. _'Maybe if this is what I have to look forward to, then falling down doesn't really seem that bad.'_

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**I hope you guys enjoyed. :) As you can tell, these two weren't doing so well in the beguinning of this story. But I think they might be just fine now.**

**And I know alot of people write about France as some sex crazed fiend, but I don't think he's THAT bad, ok maybe he is, but I'd like to think that for England he'd have the dignity to show he was serious and actually be mature when dealing with his one true love. :) **

**These stories get me all lovey dovey, lol, I need to stop. **

**Ooh, and Valentine's Day is coming up, so you guys should tell me what couple you want me to write a fanfic for. :) I'll do almost anyone, except for USUK cause to me it's like pedophila, and RoChu, cause, well, I don't think anyone but RusAme actually works. So sorry! But I'll cross practically anybody else, doing whatever else! Any ideas? Well send them my way and I'll try! **

**Happy V-Day and spread the love! 3 **


	15. Sweet Southern Comfort Carry Home

**Things have been slow for our couple, so here's a change of scenery. :) Hope Everything is good for you guys. **

**Actually thinking of making thiese 15 chapters or so into one arch, and then starting a whole nother "Story" for the actually family part of the RusAme. :) Any thoughts?**

**Anyway, the song used in the end is from Emmylou Harris. You can listen to it here, http:/www. /watch?v =_dL1Fju0koc**

**And the song before that was from the Soggy Bottom Boys. You can liten to it here, .com/watch?v=htSXKYs8sQM**

**Hope everyone likes this. :) You guys seem to have gone quite on me. Anythoughts on anything? Singing is in Italics. :) **

**Nothing belongs to me but the words themselves. **

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The little patter of feet could be heard as they unsurely made their way through the tiled halls, the tiny echoes creeping closer as I heard Brie come into our room. The door clicked open first, its hinges groaning from the weight of the cedar door as she pushed it only a little bit, making a path barely big enough for herself, and then the simple, static brush of her night gown as she squeezed her way through the opening came as well.

My ears were throbbing with the silence that always followed. She would tiptoe on the soft Berber carpet and the oval rug in front of the king sized bed, her footsteps muffled now, and look on us with beautifully perplexed eyes, maybe one she had given her own parents, or one she might give to any lovers at all.

I had grown accustomed to this every morning, right at dawn when the pinpricks of sunlight spilled into her windows and prompted her to come into the darkened cool of ours. As I slowly counted down to three, I could feel the bed dip with her weight as she crawled up into the comforter, though I tried to hold back a smile as she gently tried her hardest not to wake us.

True to my memory, her little hand then reached for the heavy, top cover and peeled it slowly back, just as I opened my eyes, chuckling softly as I caught her. "Morning Brie,"

"Uncle Ivan, I'm so sowry for waking you," I stopped her apologies with a finger to my own lips, lifting up the covers so she could crawl into the warm depths. I couldn't help but laugh to myself as Alfred pulled his legs quickly up to himself as Brie's cold feet brushed him, his hands coming to her in his dreams as he took her to his chest. I could tell Brie liked being held by him, the identical mirror image of her 'Momma' and he always had a comfortable, hot feel and touch to him, like a little ball of sparks tamed back with the ocean in his eyes and a field of fresh wheat in his hair.

She took refuge in his over sized T-shirt and its endless wrinkles, fists closing around the fabric as she smiled against his chest. Alfred too looked complete now as he held the child, adapted to her stealing into our room every morning, though she had only been here about a week.

I put my arms around both of them, Brie pressing back on me as she felt the warmth of me near, Alfred's hand finding my bangs, caressing back to the ends of my locks, bringing it up to feel them again. My heart jumped at the touch, how smooth and gentle he was, so unlike last night when I had caught him right after a hot shower, too tempted to let the moment go as I laid him out, and told him to be quite no matter what.

True to his word, he was, though I'm pretty sure the scratches on my back will be permanent scars. Haha. Pretty little things, I guess, so worth the entire moment though.

Either way, I had grown so used to the entire situation that I never thought of what would happen when she had to go home.

Home. Where was that? Here maybe? In the arms of some beautiful man and the child who seemed like a glue to the two of them?

Alfred's hand had fallen quite as I mused about him, and remembered what Brie and I had planned for him, for my little dove. Things would be better, I'd take him away from the droning city and it's metallic memories and hateful steel walls. He needed to be free sometimes, and I knew just the place.

**-VV-**

"Ivan, what if I don't like where we are going?" The whine was almost a little stressed as the blonde leaned back in the seat, his bare feet enjoying the sticky wind as it whipped past him at about 60 miles an hour. Ivan had woken him this morning at about nine o' clock, Brie already washed and clothed in cute little overalls, a sweet milk mustache on her lips as she had woke him up with a few excited shrieks of laughter and calls of, 'It's time! Come on its time!'

"Of course you will like where we are going, so don't worry about it." the childish tone quirking Alfred a bit as he tried to readjust himself in his seat, back aching a little from the long car ride so far. His hair was alight with the golden sun as it came pouring out of the blistering mid July summer sky. There was a twinkle to his eyes as Alfred turned his wavering attention to the out stretched ribbon of road in front of them, the twisting way carved between the corn stalks and cotton fields.

Every now then, Ivan's smile would lengthen as he heard a country station get picked up by the static radio of the old pickup truck. The banjos and blue grass seemed to electrify the American as it faded in and out, his nimble fingers trying to find the exact station and keep the song on.

_"...down in the river to pray, studying about that good ol' way. And who shall wear the starry crown? Good Lord show me the way."_ The woman's voice was clear and bell like, a murmuring chorus echoing with her as the song's verse was repeated. She sounded so hopeful, maybe a sad smile on her lips as she crooned the song, a twang of the south on her voice.

The entire truck was quite as the radio kept going, merciful music so beautifully sung as Alfred suddenly broke into an old remembering of the small chapel choir. _"Come on Brothers lets go down, down in the river to pray. As I went down in the river to pray."_ his voice was thick and heavy with a back home accent, hearty and slow as he kept in time with the woman's voice, Brie catching a small inkling of it too just as the song ended a little mournfully.

"Mama used to sing this." the girl seemed so intellectual as she uttered the sentence, as if she knew so much more than her appearance gave hint to. "She likes slow songs like that." Just as static caught, Alfred turned the volume down.

"Me too, Brie. Matthew adored those songs...I remember one time, Mamma Sue, our old nanny, taught us the words after we had asked about the old tattered bible she carried to and from church. The next morning at sun up, Mamma Sue brought us down to the old brook and let us wash our hands as she prayed." His eyes closed slowly as the sounds of running water came into tune, the old, raspy voice of the black house keeper serenading the boys as they up turned the hem of their jeans and splashed in the waves, the sun barely peeking over the grassy fields. The brisk, tapping of the old oak trees kept time as their leaves whispered in the breeze, their nanny sitting on top of a stump whose peeling bark still had the initials "F.B." and "A.K." inside a heart, buried in the growing weeds.

"Do you miss it?" Brie's innocent question had surprised Ivan, she sounded so interested in the idle musings and faded memories of the American. The remembrance of the song connected the two, and Ivan wished he could be in the moment to.

A nod, and a chuckle as Alfred tossed his gaze back out the open window and whipping wind. "More than life itself little Brie. More than life itself." his head laid back onto the seat back and Ivan couldn't help but wink at Brie through the rearview mirror as Alfred fell asleep with dreams of down South, Brie giggling as the song came back to her, her mother's voice sounding just as Uncle Alfie's had, as if the very thought of a river taking washing away the sad moments and weakness in soul, making you clean, was what had awoken the sinners on Sunday morning.

**-VV-**

The blue pickup pulled down the dirt road and parked beneath the strong bough of a pecan tree, Ivan taking in a deep lung full of the smell of sweet jasmine and honey suckle on the surrounding chain link fence, dusk coming swiftly as the temperature slid slowly down into the cool seventies. Both Alfred and Brie were still sleeping as the old truck came to a sputtering stop, the night and fireflies collecting in the yard as the metallic opening of the door broke the silence.

"So this is the place that Alfred called home." The country house was two story, with a neat wrap around porch and white swing hanging by the screen door. The steps that lead up were cracked at the edges, the faint breeze playing with the early moon and the leaves fallen too early on the front porch. With a collected smile, Ivan slid back into the truck, across it's worn leather seats and woke Alfred with a gentle kiss on his pursed lips, moving forward as he cupped those preciously warm cheeks in his hands as Alfred responded, fingers woven in the silvering locks, slowly loving as the stars came into view.

The American moved away first, taking in a deep breath of old country, of sweet tall grass and chopped wood. "Where are we?" he asked in the very cusp of sleep, eyes heavy still as he smiled up to the violet gaze, whose liquid depths kept him still and quiet as the sounds of coons in the woods scattered in the bushes, of little Brie's slight breathing as she slept, and of Ivan's husky accent hushed with passion.

"Home, Alfred, home."

The blonde didn't understand the words until he looked about himself, and saw the house standing in the shadows of lumbering trees, goose bumps rippling over him as he as was flooded with childish memories of the Dixie, and tears in his eyes as he smelled magnolias and jasmine in the air. "Ivan, what on Earth?" he easily got out of the truck and looked around as the world spun in its splendor, it's axis bent as the entire universe seemed to focus here in the South.

Alfred, at first, was cautious and slow as his footsteps crackled under the gravel, his lips trembling and wet as he licked them over and over, moving slowly as if he might accidently break from this dream, and shatter the entire scene, just to bring reality crashing down. But as he saw that this was for real, that everything around him was actually breathing and alive, he sprinted up the steps and threw open the screen door, relishing how it sprang at his command, and the old door behind it gave way with little persuasion. The rooms were just as he remembered, with dusted pictures still clinging on the walls, of him and Matthew in matching overalls, another of the two bailing hay. The dining room table had the same white cover, one that had lace on its round ends, a dark stain where Alfred had once spilled sweet tea and blamed Matthew.

The living room was dark and homey with greens and browns of painted walls, a great stone fireplace snug against the wall. That was where Mamma Sue used to knit her yarn and tell her stories as the boys curled by the open fire in the winter. Arthur had rocked in that wicker chair, and Francis had cooked in the small kitchen. Everything was new and old, everything was soaked in sweet Southern comfort, everything just as he remembered it.

Ivan brought Brie into the house in his arms, Alfred still turning in amazement of where they were. He took Ivan by the hips and kissed him, leaning over Brie and pressing her to his chest as he kissed Ivan again, this time, holding tears painfully back.

"How'd you know? God Lord, how did you know?" His hands held the three of them together, contentment in the salty tears that Alfred just couldn't hold back.

"I talked to Matthew. You've been acting weird these past few weeks, so I brought you home. Brie helped me actually. Without her, I wouldn't have known any of this." Alfred quieted the words with another kiss to Ivan, and then a kiss to precious Brie as she slept against his chest, Alfred's lips on her forehead and her graying curls.

"I can't thank you enough. I just...I just..." Was there any words for this moment? It was as if his dreams had faded into the real world, and so suddenly he had been given everything that his tiny heart had ever desired. Alfred found no words of thanks, nothing but tears and breathy sons as he wiped vainly with the back of his hand at the stinging sadness.

Slowly, but so suddenly, Brie woke at his pitiful sobs and reached for him, her bangs falling into her face as he caught her and pressed her so close to himself. She was soft and so small, hot with sleep and dreams, lost and comforting in her innocence. Alfred crossed to the chair where he sat slowly, and pushed his feet against the hard wood floor, rocking so tenderly at the heart of the house to the sound of no particular tune. _"Go to sleep little baby, go to sleep little baby. You're Momma's gone away, and you're Daddy's gonna stay. Didn't leave nobody but the baby. Go to sleep little baby, go to sleep little baby. Everybody's gone in the cotton and the corn, didn't leave nobody but the baby."_

There was hesitation as Russia sat cross legged in front of them, leaning his chin to rest on his lovers knees, and breath in the smell of collected dust and folded blue jeans, adoring the sound as Alfred kept singing.

_"You're a sweet little baby, you're a sweet little baby. Honey and a rock, and the sugar don't stop, gonna bring a bottle to the baby. Go to sleep little baby, go to sleep little baby. You and me, and the devil makes three, don't need no other, my little, lovin' baby."_

A beat rested as silence rang through, Brie placated and sleeping soundly, America resting his cheek against her little head, voice smiling and affectionate as he softly petted her hair, his other hand patting her back as he rocked slowly back and forth.

Had it always been like this?

"Tomorrow I want you to show me the river." he shattered the silence of everything, and Alfred quit the fluid movement.

"Of course I will. Of course." A lovely smile budded on his lips as he closed his eyes against the oncoming night, relishing the feel of everything so close and pressing in, and the silent sound of freedom ringing as he almost swore he felt a little life beat against his stomach.

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**Aww, America is back home in the South. Its where I'm originally from, Arkansas part, and I hope you guys enjoyed. **

**Comments are so appreciated! **

**Next chapter there is amazing RusAme alone time, the finding of a tattoo, sad back grounds, memories, and in the end, a great promise. :) **

**And maybe some JapanxGreece. Any one up for it? **

**Tell me what you think. :]**


	16. I Just Can't Shake This Feeling

**Hola! So, It seems you guys are still reading, I am on my knees with joyfulness and graditude. :) **

**I really hope you guys like the story. Not many people are commenting so I'm worried this isn't something interesting. **

** I'd like to also add to my little chat with you guys the fact that all things I write about, the place and the house, are all things I grew up with in my childhood, which isn't that far away. :) **

**I lived in Arkansas and was born and raised in places just like the ones Alfred and Ivan go to. I'm actually drawing all my knowledge and ideas from pictures and things that my dad and I have from when we lived there. I've only been away for three years, so all the memories are fresh. **

**I actually decided to make it southernesque for the fact that I'm already homesick of the South. I'm in Florida right now, so you see my pain. :( **

**Please, everyone who still live in the South, I mean not to offend anyone, I'm just drawing from my knowledge of my old home and it's southern qualities, as well as my family's history, to create an amazing RussAme story. If there is ever anything that offend you guys, please tell me, and I'll gladly change it, though these things, from the stain on the white table cloth to the front porch steps to 'Mamma Sue', were all things in my old home. :)**

**I do hope you guys like the story. Be honest, if there's something you don't like, or want to happen, then tell me. I live to make you guys happy. :) **

**I'm trying you guys I really am! Anyway, lots of RusAme fluff and a little sadness with some cute cuddly Brie. :) **

**Enjoy! **

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The water was like a cold, thin shawl America could pull over his face and shield his bare shoulders and strapping chest from the harsh mid noon sun. He marveled at the rocks and the flat stream, which was more wide than deep, as he waded up to his knees and took in another handful of water.

'So this is it, huh?' To Russia, the stream was simply water and weathered stones, hidden in a canopy of thick branched trees and sudden, wide open skies. The clouds themselves hung close to the Earth, light and iridescent as another heavy gust of wind unthreaded them across the deep azure horizon, thinning them out like fresh cotton being pulled apart.

Thoughts were prodding him now as his eyes complacently lingered back to his blooming sunflower, who was sloshing back to him, the white crests crashing deliciously against his tanned calves.

"Come in with me!" Alfred took the larger hands in his own, pulling softly back as he tried to help him up, though Ivan's sudden bashfulness pressed back wanting refuge in the tall, knee high grass.

"No, no. I can't, you go without me," there was a shyness buried deep in those eyes as they turned down cast, cheeks burnt a lovely red with fresh blush. Alfred felt a budding smile pass profoundly on his lips as he saw a challenge, some greater force compelling him to pounce on his superior and show him his true, unbounded strength. Out here in the open country.

He easily brought himself to his knees, the grass shuffling as he settled down, hands catching the white ends of the Russian's T shirt as he tired to slide it off, though Ivan persistently moved uncomfortably back as their weight shifted, Alfred giggling as they both fell back in their tussle, chests pressed together as the blonde let out a giggle.

Unfaltering hands pushed Alfred by the shoulder, Ivan easily pinning him beneath his weight as the two both laughed and fought for domination, something Ivan always won in these things. As he tried to reach for Ivan, Alfred was pressed back down into the weeds and swaying cattails, the Russian's eyes glowing hot with amethyst and mirth as a smile came over him and he kissed the freckled shoulder blades and soft spun gold locks as they tumbled in their play.

At last though, with a confident grin and reddened cheeks, Alfred had wrestled the shirt off of him,, tossing it by his own and scanning the tight muscles as they stretched and basked in the subdued heat of high noon. Sweat almost broke as Ivan helped his comrade up, letting himself be pulled toward the rushing river for a cold bath.

"The water is just like I remember," Alfred mused, leading Ivan who patiently followed, taking a quick breath as the cool lap of waves caressed him, flowed against him so tenderly and fluid, Its depths were clear as crystal, almost completely clean as he walked on, standing now to his thighs as the jeans soaked in the cool perspiration.

There was a soft coo as Alfred leaned back to catch water on his forehead that Ivan had splashed on him, his heated body adoring the feel of Ivan's calloused hands as they brought palmfuls of water up above him and then let them fall, the droplets beading like ice as they clung to him, washing his bangs down into his eyes, his glasses forgotten back on the shore.

There was a pleasurable sigh that left his lips then, and America couldn't help but close his eyes dreamily, relishing the feel of wet ands wash over his body, scanning and drenching him with that cleansing, remembering water.

**Alfred's POV**

Nothing I could do would get the thought of his hands off my body, especially since we had left the brook. All day I had walked around with my cheeks burning at his glances and each movement seeming as if he might take me in those arms and ravish me there.

Ha, ravish. How I loved the word. Matthew used it also, not in this sense, but when ever he did I couldn't help but chuckle, my mind in places it shouldn't be. And Matthew, he lived in almost complete sight with us as Brie bounced and fluttered through our halls, that lone curl bobbing in her face, eyes like blooming violets, pleasing manners always at her lips just like her mother.

I missed him suddenly, just as I had missed this place. I had felt the emptiness the entire time, but it had been shrouded, covered up by some other numbing vice. Now, as if a veil had been pulled from my eyes, I felt my love for everything so clearly, utterly lost in the adoration for everything around me, and wanting Matthew at my side.

_'I'll call him back by the end of the week,_' I decided as I unlaced the apron from around my waist, an apple pie fresh from the oven sending scents of spices and sweet apples through the house. _'But for now, I just want it to be us here. Ivan, Brie, me and..._' my lips were paused in contemplation, afraid to speak the last few words. The doctor had said I wasn't pregnant but, I FELT something, there was a change, some where in my body and I knew it had to be...

_It had to be…_

"Uncle Alfie! Uncle Ivan and I smelled apples, can we have some?" her bright voice took my utter attention and I picked her up without any more thoughts of a baby. I watched attentively as Ivan came in, a devilish smile on his face as he caught my gaze, winking playfully as he looked to the pie.

"Aw, look at Momma Alfie Brie, isn't she just beautiful in her apron and jeans?" his voice was playful and scorning, the joke said with a light, airy sort of ring that Brie took with all seriousness.

"Momma Alfie, you do look pretty, just like Mamma." She was like sweet tea and honey as her little arms hugged around my neck, my hands patting her back as I held her, loving how she was so small and so soft to my touch. Though, I could let Russia see that "Momma Alfie" was what I wanted.

"Haha, very funny, you two," I nuzzled my nose against hers as she let out a giggle, and I set her down, the little ball of fun running to Ivan and climbing into his lap.

And the way he took her, hands helping her sit on his strong thighs, a smile gracing everything he said as he pointed out the construction paper on the table, her eyes lighting up as he handed them to her, with a handful of crayons and a kiss on her brow.

"Make Momma and Alfie something pretty, Brie. I think they'd like that," he whispered, my eyes reading his lips as he turned back to her, showing Brie how to fold the paper to make a card, and use the safety scissors to cut decorative designs on the edges.

There was that feeling again, deep in my stomach, a lightheaded sort of nausea that stuck in my throat and pushed at my innards. I smiled through it though and went to cutting a piece of the pie for each of them, my mind repeating the same sentence over and over and over, like one of Mattie's old record players when it found a verse it liked and stuck there.

'_You're pregnant. You're pregnant, You. Are. Pregnant._

**-VV-**

The moon pooled around the base of the windows as I came back from the bathroom, my chest sore and aching from heaving, and my brain spinning as the thought 'morning sickness' seemed a lie. It was two 'o clock at night…technically the morning, but still, nine AM seemed more reasonable for me to start throwing my guts.

As I walked the halls, I still had a rippling fear setting in on my skin, haunting aches in the core of my bones as each step seemed magnified with guilt. But it wasn't the thought of me being regnant that riled up this feeling.

'_Remember the Civil War?' _

Old memories soaked back with seething reminders, memories of slaves and rape, of chains and whippings, cotton fields and inequality all bundled together in a new home. Of out right racial hate and coursing anger with fear of those who are different in skin color.

Coming back always did this to me, with nightmares Matthew had promised I'd outgrow and cold sweats in the night when my mind could fend off the terrible things that happened in the dark.

I had been an ignorant teenager, (God, was I still that way now?) when the entire thing had broken out. But eons of life couldn't erase the flames and sounds of screams as they were ripped from the throats of horrid victims.

There was the sting of tears in my eyes as I crept back into bed, hiding beneath the quilt and pressing near Ivan as if he could fight back my very fears. But not him, nor the warm covers, nor the milk white of the moon rays could pacify me as I started to cry, the pit of my stomach churning again as I got back up to go to the bathroom.

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**Is he pregnant? Maybe, who knows. Lol. **

**Don't worry, everything is about to explode as everyone comes back to the city for a meeting. :) OOOh sonds scandelous. **

**YES it is. Haha**

**Oh, and GreecexJapan fans, no worries, I hear ur cries, its all going to be alright! They are coming up to! **


	17. And the bough breaks

**IM SO SORRY!**

**I know I haven't updated for a looong time, but it's becasue I've been up to my ears in college stuff, and family issues, and for a little bit I had given up on the story, but I found a new idea from help from my bestest friend, and TADA!There is another chapter! I hope you guys are still out there, wanting to read! :D**

**It's 1:30 AM, so if you see any errors, or something that sounds odd, just tell me, and i'll fix it. :) **

**BTW, I'm not updating till I get 10 reviews. I don't care if ya'll just send me the names of songs you like, or reasons why I should write in your fave couple, or things that should happen in this story, just wirite SOMETHING! :) BTW, I have nothing (almost) planned out for this story, so I am up to any and all ideas yall have! Where does it seem like its going? Is it happy? Sad? What do you want to see? TELL ME! :) **

**And enjoy my Sweethearts!**

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There was a sigh, a tired yawn, and a tug on Ivan's shirt, all movements that hazed together in the blur and mist of early morning.

'I wasn't made to wake up at 5 AM.'

The sound of a rooster crowing in a soft distance echoed thrice, but it wasn't the sound Ivan was waiting so patiently for.

The Russian felt another tug, sharper than before, and he looked down at the tiny girl who was smiling her pretty, small smile and rubbing her eyes with a weak fist.

"Papa Ivan, was does Mama Alfie make us wake up so early?" She didn't even try to hide another yawn as her mouth opened wide, Ivan taking the time to stoop down and sweep her up in one arm, letting her head to rest on his shoulder.

Silence and a wry smile followed before his answer, which he whispered into the bunch of golden curls that were still a bit tangled from sleep, "Because he's crazy. Absolutely out of his ever loving-"

The long shout of the tea kettle interrupted his words, those violet eyes waking from their vague staring and a steady hand reaching to take it from the fire.

By now, the last heat of summer had been sweated out from everyone's pores, blown out like a candle, leaving only lukewarm noons and cool, crisp mornings and bundled up evenings. Leaves were shriveling up and abandoning their healthy colors, instead fading into vibrant oranges and harvest reds, everything crunching beneath foot falls wherever one would go. The musk of hay and dried firewood was everywhere, something Ivan had grown used to in his time of staying with Alfred, something he almost loved as much as the smell of hot cider and warm cotton.

He reached for a teaspoon and helped himself to two lumps of sugar, stirring them languidly into his coffee and pressing the edge of the mug to his lips for a good gulp.

Brie had already fallen back to sleep, but he poured a little bit of the boiling water into another cup and topped it off with a flourish of fat marshmallows floating on top, a little swirl of whipped crème making it look picture perfect. 'It's Brie's favorite after all. I think she deserves some hot chocolate after being roused at this ungodly hour. Speaking of this, where on earth is the master of plans? He's been busied upstairs ever since he sent me down here to watch Brie.' As he waited for her drink to cool, he took another hearty sip of his, and stole a look up the stairs.

There was a smile reflected in a mirror, a steady breath of the cooling, morning breeze from open windows, and the sure sense of perfection in every breath Alfred took.

Today, the hero had woken everyone up before dawn had the chance to let the sun peek over the horizon in an attempt to show them what he thought was probably the most beautiful and soul stopping of all things.

A southern sunrise.

'It starts with a splash of purple, barely tinted with a blue so it looks pastel and radiant. The clouds seem just shadowed rows of cotton, taking the colors of the earth, the pinks, the gold of the sun, the orange of the horizon. God paints his best in the morning, and they just have to see it.' His hands were shaking with anticipation as he buttoned his boot cut pants, donning Texas as he walked out of his room, just as the phone wailed.

'Odd, I shouldn't be getting calls, unless it's Mattie!' Alfred rushed back and threw himself on the bed, stretching backwards for the phone as he yanked it to his ear, excitement welling in his chest. 'He probably wants to hear all about how much fun Brie is having, I'll have to tell him to come down for a few days to stay with us.'

"Hello Jello Mellow Yello!" Alfred rhymed happily, ears burning to hear his brother return the greeting as always. But it wasn't Matthew's voice on the other line.

"Hello, America." It was Japan's.

His heart stopped. Everything inside him seemed to deflate rapidly, mind spinning as he caught a gasp from escaping. There was a dreadful pounding in his ears, sharp, and thick as he swallowed hard, words fumbling over the lump in his throat as he sat up slowly, clutching the receiver to his ear. Finally he answered weakly.

"Oh, hey Japan. Sorry for that, I...I thought you were-"

"Russia?"

"Matthew, actually," Alfred felt cut by Kiku's sharp tone, which seemed demanding in a limp sort of way, like a wounded dog snapping as it laid helplessly in front of its attackers. "I'm staying with Ivan." America retaliated, as if he was being backed into a corner.

"I didn't call to fight with you Alfred." There was that small voice again, one that sounded so close to the cusp of tears, of utter heart break and failure.

America breathed a heavy sigh at Japan's use of his human name, "Then why would you call me?"

"I'm pregnant." So blunt, but it still sliced Alfred as he swallowed again.

"Congratulations." Flat, almost uncaring.

"That's all you have to say? Heh, I call you up with news this big and you can only find the words-"

"I'm in a rush Japan, I have things I need to get to. If you're calling to gloat about you and Greece's new bundle of joy, then save it for another day." A free hand came up and lightly pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing Texas higher as he tried to stop a head ache.

The next thing America heard was sobbing. It was light at first, just hushed, choked breathing, and then a full onslaught of heated tears and wrenching cries. And his little heroic heart burst.

"Wait, Kiku, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so...Come on, don't cry, isn't this what you wanted? A baby, all yours. And Greece is ready to be a father, he's gentle and caring, and he loves you. I thought you'd be happy." But the words only seemed to make the man on the other line weep even harder.

He couldn't decipher any of the mangled words that Japan was trying to say as he wiped at his watery eyes and tried to gulp back the heavy sobs. But a few words that Kiku kept repeating over and over finally came into clarity.

"It's yours, Alfred, I know it is. It's yours, it's yours, it's yours."

The rest of Japan's words faded to static as Alfred's hand dropped the phone from his ear, the plastic clattering to the wooden floor with a breaking noise, the call cut off completely as Alfred lost attention.

"What do ya think Mama Alfie wants to show us? The sun ain't even awake yet, it's no fair that it gets to sleep in." Ivan chuckled light heartedly at Brie's simplemindedness, his hand reaching over and tucking a few of those silvery locks out of her face as she took another swig of her hot chocolate, the crème making a cute mustache on her lips.

"It must be important if he was able to pull himself out of bed this early, but I'm not sure what he wants. I'm kind of worried since he hasn't been down yet." Russia checked the grandfather clock again, and then raked his eyes up the stairs as a feint clatter stirred in his ears.

Brie heard it too as she swung her head to look back toward the stair case, licking her lips slowly, eyes wide with curiosity as she saw Russia stand abruptly and make his way up to the master bedroom. With a little effort, she hopped down from the chair, ready to follow obediently toward the commotion, but was stopped by Russia who came down the stairs in a rush of desperate, frustrated breaths that he disguised in a warm tone as he kneeled in front of her, taking her gently by the shoulders.

"Brie, baby, I need you to do something for me. Can you call your Mama and tell him to come down immediately? Could you do that for me, Sweetheart?" Brie liked how Ivan stilled smelled like fresh coffee and sugar, but the look in his eyes was unsettling to her. Ivan was always so strong, so solid, but right now, she felt like he was falling apart in front of her, she could almost see something crumbling behind his steel facade.

The tiny girl nodded her head, a little unsurely at first but gave it real feeling when she threw her arms around Russia's neck and nodded into his shoulder, taking in the strong scent of salt and caffeine. He finally let her go and she padded her way into the living room, clamoring up onto the couch and grabbing the corded phone. She typed the number with her nimble fingers and listened with a held breath for an answer.

"Hello?"

"Mama!"

"Brie? Baby, what is it, you sound terrified. Are you ok?" A silence started creeping in. "Where's Alfred?" Matthew dropped the basket of clothes he had been balancing on his hip and switched the phone to his other ear to better hear his daughter. Worry was pooling deep in his stomach as he felt Emile kick his hard in the ribs as a response to his sudden mood swing.

"Papa Ivan just said to call you. He said you have to come quick." She turned to look at the door way, hoping maybe to see either of her guardians so they could prompt her on what to say, but it was empty.

Matthew's breathing quickened as possibilities started to rage an angry torrent in his head. What if Alfred had drowned in the creek? What if he had drank too much moonshine and gone blind! Each new possibility kept getting more outrageous until they seemed all too possible with his brother.

"Honey I need you to get Ivan on the phone. I need to talk to him." His voice was honey like and dripping with fret.

She looked back to the doorway, afraid to leave the comfort of her mother's pleading voice, almost like something was waiting for her outside the living room. She stood and walked a few feet, the cord stretching out and falling to the floor. Brie tried to unbottle all of the courage she had, but simply couldn't loosen the cork. What if bad men had gotten a hold of Alfred? Ivan had looked so scared too, and Ivan was _never_ scared. Fear over took her and she rushed back to the couch and pulled the quilt around her, tearfully talking to her Mama again.

"I don't know where he is." Fat tears were welled in her eyes as her brain tripped and scraped itself on her wide imagination of everything that could be happening. All she knew was that she wanted to be held and comforted in Ivan's strong arms, with Alfred's bright smile and her mother's soothing voice.

"Baby, you have to get me Ivan, please, if you do it, I can help. " The Canadian was trying to reason with his poor child who seemed utterly confused and at her wit's end, trying to get her to give him some sort of idea what was happening.

The harsh sound of something shattering startled Brie and she yelped, trying to hide as another loud noise, this time a _crack, _shook the upstairs. But her little feet got caught in phone cord and thick quilt folds and she came falling to the floor, wailing for someone to come help her.

Footsteps rumbled down the staircase, Brie closing her eyes shut and sniffling as her mother kept asking what was wrong in an almost hoarse voice.

"Brie, what is it! Tell me what's wrong!" Matthew was throwing shoes on, frustrated as he couldn't bend down to tie them because of how wide around he was, now in his last trimester of pregnancy, and finally gave up altogether and rushed out the door. "I'm on my way Brie, I'm coming over."

She grew quite suddenly, and Matthew started the car, a thick, Russian accent suddenly in his ear.

"Mathieu?"

"Damn it Ivan, what's going on? What's wrong?" He was flying down the road now as he heard Ivan calming Brie with soft _shushing_ sounds. "Ivan!"

"I'm here, Mathieu, it's ok. She's just worked up. But it's Alfred you have to worry about." On the other side of the line, Ivan was tenderly untangling Brie from the twirl of the phone cord and tucking her into his chest as he sat on the couch to regain his breath.

"What's wrong with him?" The Canadian asked, though he suddenly had a feeling he knew exactly what it was.

"There's stuff with Kiku, and I think he's getting a little rugged from memories of the Civil War." A darkening cloud of feeling was raw and thunderous as Ivan said the words, Matthew taking a deep, understanding breath. "I just need you here to calm him. He's starting to throw things."

"I'll be there in a few hours, just keep him in your sights. Give him Brie, that'll calm him down."

He heard a muffled thud, and before he could ask, Ivan cut in.

"I'll talk to you when you get here." And he hung up.

All the street signs were blurs of black and reds and yellows, Matthew only slowing when he saw a cop car, but other than that, gunning it as fast as possible to his old home, to familiar land, to his brother, his other half.

'Damn it Alfred. Sometimes I think you are the weaker twin...'

It wasn't thought in malice, or envy, but true sadness, that really, behind the big, heroic talk, and courageous eyes, was just a terrified, little boy, whose heart was filled with shadows of doubt, and a spring of held back tears.

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**I know it seems like alot is happening at a fast pace, but it's supposed to, hectic emotions call for hectic writing. Don't worry, the next few chapters are more detailed and you'll get the whole picture...hoepfully.**

**God, I love little Brie, and Motherly Canada. **

**Anyone falling for Father!Russia yet? :P**

**Do I have any AmeJap fans out there? **

**Tell me what you think, be honest, and lets get ready for more DRAMA! :) **


	18. Its on now

**Ok, so I'm now writing more so I can get chapter's out to you guys faster. **

**I want to apologize to all fans in advance. Please don't just stop reading because the couple you don't want isn't lovin on eachother right now. Relationships are complicated, take time, and are confusing. Please please please trust me, you need to read the whole thing to understnad, don't just skip to see when your fave couple comes into the spotlight. **

**Also, this chapter is a little shorter than usual. For one, I had a complaint that my transitions with the POV's was a bit "jarring" so I decided that each chapter will be a different POV so it's a little easier to follow. Also, this chapter is just short because I wanted to give a little peek inside Russia's head before this next HUGE part coming up. **

**It's about to go down people, I'm serious, you're either going to REALLY REALLY love it, or REALLY REALLY hate it. **

**I hope its love though. :) **

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**-Russia's POV-**

I wasn't sure what was worse, seeing a hero fall from his pedestal, or understanding that he might never be able to ever get back up.

He had quieted after Mathieu had gotten there, those blue eyes widening and watery as he embraced his mirror image, speaking rushed, thick, Southern accent as his hands ran through his brother's curls, coming around to feel the thick baby bump, and kiss the little, squirming movements. He kept smiling and smiling, looking fragile as thin glass, covering everything up as he nodded lovingly to each of his brother's probing questions.

Brie, too, left immediately from my arms and reached for her Mama, Mathieu kissing her blushed cheeks and holding her so close that they looked like one in the same, curls and bows and violet eyes, smelling of maple syrup and roses.

I didn't have any place in this family.

And for an instant, I felt as if I had no place in any family, not this one, nor with anyone else. It was like a blow was sent to my world, everything shattering into tiny, miscellaneous things all cascading to my feet. It was then when I understood that Alfred was really all I had. Without my sunflower, all the light in my world would be snuffed out into the cold, merciless dark and shadows of places that still haunted me, like Stalingrad, and the palace where the Romanovs' met their bitter end.

I peeked into the bed room where Canada had given America a glass of cool Coca Cola, the fizz rising deliciously as he stirred the bendy straw monotonously around the rim. His face was paler somehow, though his eyes were shaded a deep red from rubbing his eyes, the little sapphire pupils graying and dead, overflowing with depression and utter guilt.

His chest looked sunken in, so unlike his usual heroic stance, his hair a mere mop of faded gold, looking disheveled and frazzled, as if his entire character was dulling, losing its luster, weakening before I could do anything to help.

"Mathieu?" He graced his head up and looked at me with an exhausted face, "Is there anything I can do to help?" Alfred rose his eyes to peer at me from behind his thick fringe of bangs, lips wet and trembling as he hid his head back into the crook of his brother's neck. The sight hurt my heart. He wouldn't even look me in the face. Whatever was bothering him wasn't something I could help with. I was powerless and small in this world, far away from my love, far away from security.

Mathieu shook his head, hands comforting Alfred as they trickled through his hair, nails daintily grazing his back in soft scratches. "We're fine Ivan, thanks."

What more could I do? Sit and watch as he unfolded into nothing, blinking weakly out of existence. All I knew was that in one phone call, Japan had shoved America over the edge of some cavernous abyss.

Fuck him. He had ruined everything. With a few words, he had taken Alfred from me. And I was about to fix this.

"Mathieu!" I called down the hall as I slipped my boots on, lacing them up over the ankle and wrapping my scarf loosely about my neck, "I'm going out for a while, don't expect me back in time for dinner." I didn't need a response from him to know that he understood.

I passed Brie on my way outside, her face still red and twisted sadly, those eyes droopy with tears. I kneeled and kissed her gingerly on the cheeks, whispering goodbyes and promises to come back safely.

And with that, I was off, mind drowning in revenge as red as crimson rose's on a coffin yet to be buried and fluidly blinded with every dark secret I have ever chained away in my subconscious.

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**BTW since this chapter is shorter, I will post the next one after I get at least 6 comments instead of 10, but everyone should comment, just to help the story along. :) R and R my lovely readers and tell me everything you think! And thank you everyone who has responded and reads! I love yall! *Hugs everyone* **


	19. I deserve all of this

***Gets on hands and knees***

**I am sooo sorry for making you wait this long. I should be shot, and I deserve it if you guys never read my stuff. :( **

**I just kinda got lost when writing this, not sure of where to grow from there, but tada! I found it! :) **

**This is getting drama filled, so I hope you like it. Read and review my lovely fans. I want to hear lots of feed back. Lots and lots, even if you just want to say hi! **

**You get a cookie for reviewing :3 **

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**Kiku's POV**

My lips were aching from Greece's play, tingling like I had kissed hot coals as he turned my cheeks slightly and gave little wet kisses to my blush as well. His hands were protectively placed around my stomach, fingers splayed apart so he could cover more skin, and feel the entire movement of the little alien thing that was resting inside me. It would kick and bump and tumble at all hours, I don't think it understands the concept of day and night. But it didn't matter, because it is was moving, then Greece was latched to me, close and comforting, all smiles and dreamy eyes that looked on the verge of beautiful dreams.

"Kiku, you're trembling," his voice was deep and light as feathers against my ear as he nuzzled into the crook of my shoulder, moving me so I could lean against his as well. Was I trembling? I felt goose bumps freckle my arms and I slowed my breaths, feeling that I was actually shaking, and my eyes were a little teary, but I couldn't tell you why. I was so in love, heart so flooded and full to the brim that at any moment I felt as if I would over spill and be drained out of everything.

Thoughts of my call this morning were still ringing in my ears. And I felt guilty that Greece probably didn't know anything about it. But I'm selfish, I need someone while I'm going through this. And he is by my side, so loyal, so blindly accepting and caring, with gentle fingertips that loved my rounding features, and hands that erased pain into blinding white pleasure, and eyes that made me see stars and mouth that could kiss any memory of Alfred into oblivion.

America. Not Alfred. America.

And God damn that child for doing this to me. For lashing out so quickly after Pearl Harbor and taking me down in two easy hits, scars burning down the back of my legs like lashes from cherry blossom trees. And how he had come to me with teary eyes, eyes like liquid sapphires that sparkled with true apologies and sorrow, I couldn't turn him away. I was weak, and I was aching, and it was nice to hear how he complimented my "almond eyes" and his hands would wander to the sites and all I could feel was liberation, and I had said yes, yes, yes every time.

I know the child is his, because I deserve to suffer for treating that adolescent like a man, and granting him privileges that only adults know about, and I earned it by letting him dabble around with that Russian and I should have seen the adoration feign in those eyes, and I should have known that Ivan had more control on him because he played around with chains and whips, and all I had were my hands that had held both sword and geishas in my past lives.

Suddenly the room was too hot, and too close, and my skin was scalding with all the attention from Greece, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood absolutely on end as I gripped at his shoulders and pushed him away. My lungs were pulsating lead weights and my heart was racing in my chest, its rhythm slapping and clumsy as I tried to regain any cool breath, my chest hurt, my skull was splitting with a head ache.

"Let go of me," I coughed, waking Hercules from his light day dreams.

"What is it love?"

"I said let go of me!" I was messy with my actions as I untangled myself from him, feet itching to get to the bathroom so I could wash my skin over with water.

My gut was flooded with sudden sorrow, eyes tear stained and blurry as I looked in the mirror and ripped the handle of the faucet on. The water came gushing in a heavy stream of ice, my hands cupping it and bringing it to my face and forehead.

My ears heard Greece rushing to follow me, but I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to look into those honest eyes and lie to him about everything.

What if it was born with wheat blonde hair and Pacific blue eyes, and what if she believed in freedom and equality, and she wanted to grow up to be the hero.

She. I was already thinking that it was a girl.

I sobbed against the doorframe and when I saw Greece's outline, I slammed the door and sat in front of it so he couldn't force himself in. I suddenly hated everything and the kicking in my stomach was wretched, and it all seemed such a fitting hell for me to live for loving that boy just once.

A knock on the front door stopped Hercules' pleas for entrance, and for a sickening moment, I hoped it was Alfred waiting on the door step.

**-VV-**

**Matthew's POV**

Sometimes, I was glad that Alfred was usually bright and shining, because depressed Alfred was a little like a sour taste of irony, or a tang of vile medicine, or English food.

I'd fake a laugh with you to that last comment, but I'm just not in the mood. After Russia had left, I had finally willed Alfred to bed, his sulky eyes looking beaten to death and watery, his breaths more like dry rasps for life, and even though he had stopped crying, you could still feel the tears building up in him. Almost like water flooding behind a cracking dam. Would he hold?

I shook my head at the thoughts, knowing that he was weak and afraid and in the back of my mind, I knew he was reliving Pearl Harbor with guns and boats and airplanes that made buzzing noises in his ears, and the cries of drowning men, cries that sounded like heartbreak and hopelessness, that sounded like_, "Alfred help! Alfred please! Alfred I can't breathe, I see a bright light, I can't die yet, I have a baby on the way, tell my wife I love her-"_

He woke with screams every now and then but other than that, as I cleaned the house, all was silent. Brie was playing outside by the chicken coop with Zelda, who was making a fuss over the birds and barking faintly as they took little flight across the yard and clucked in distress. Brie was laughing like the sun, and for a second, I thought I saw a little of Alfred in her, because we share the same genes of course, but this was more. She was like sunshine and so was he. Or, at least, he could be at times. I heard whimpers in dreams and knew that Alfred was sleeping still, my eyes flashing to his room for a brief second, ears itching to hear my name, but nothing else followed.

I let out a heavy sigh, legs feeling heavy as I sat down at the table and cracked the stress from my fingers. I had up righted the dresser that he had knocked over, picked up the glass that had shattered from a free standing mirror, swept up the corpse of a vase that used to hold forgiveness flowers that Papa would leave for Arthur. I had not forgotten how blindly violent Alfred could get sometimes, heated with anger and regret, something deep in him snapping after Kiku had relayed the information.

Ya, I knew. He had told me every sadden word and god forsaken truth that Japan had said to him over the phone. And with all my heart I wanted to think that it wasn't true. Alfred couldn't have this kind of luck, he skated on gold and silver, and he could get his way out of anything with those eyes, or that smile, or with a simple beg or plea, but this was different. This was foreign, and adult, and absolutely too grown up for Alfred. He had always been the elder brother, but he was babied often, and he never really grew up, still looking barely 19, and sleeping with a little dim lamp because I had once watched "Nightmare on Elm street" with him and he had read that the brain doesn't dream when interrupted with light, flirting with young girls when he walked the streets as a commoner, still wearing glasses because he was afraid to put his finger anywhere near his eye with contacts.

And the thought that he was suddenly a father shocked me. And ya, I know that I told him that he was ready, and Russia was a good choice, but to actually hear that my brother was a father of a child with the man he no longer loves-

It isn't right.

My string of thoughts broke when I heard the familiar creak of the screen door swing open, giving way to a very tired Brie and excitedly worn out Zelda, both roaming to the kitchen as Brie poured a glass of lemonade, and threw a piece of dried jerky to her friend.

They were back outside for more, and I had lost all my train of feelings, and his screams were reaching terrible sobs, so like a patient, good brother, with my smile and my hands, went into his room, pretended everything was alright with the world, and hugged my brother, who was falling to pieces in my arms.


	20. It simply can't be, tell me its not true

**SUPRISE! I'm not dead! I know, I know, there was like a bazillion monthes between me updating. **

**Im just so confused with where I want this to go! D: Sorry! **

**So comment on what you want or wish to happen, because I am running on prayers and whatever whims come into my mind at like 4 in the morning. **

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I felt warmth press readily against me, and couldn't help but moan at the touch.

My eyes opened gently, so heavy with sleep that the world was dewy around me, hazed with a yawn as I rubbed my eyes with my palms and then blinked awake.

But it wasn't Ivan who had woken me, or Matthew, or Bri.

It was _Japan_.

Small, shaking, and on the brink of tears, Japan.

He quickly pressed a finger to his pursed lips, telling me to not make a sound, and beckoning with those tiny, curled fingers to come with him.

I had to be dreaming. That was the only explanation.

But as he reached out and grabbed me a little roughly, from nerves and paranoia, I could feel the twitch of a pulse in his fingers and the brush of his heated skin, and he was so alive as we headed out of the room soundlessly, down the stairs and finally out on to the porch.

The wooden swing creaked slowly as the wind picked up, the lick of winter wrapping around us with the faint rustle of leaves.

I was speechless, I was in awe.

He was here, in front of me. And he was...

I swallowed hard, but my mouth felt cotton dry, like my throat was full of marbles and my gut was a nest of hornets.

"What...I mean,-" I was nervous and shaking, and he was so resolute and calm, hundreds of years waiting behind his eyes, so collected and fragile.

He looked ready to _break_.

That's when he spoke.

"I'm sorry."

It was curt, and vague, yet so heavy as it was dropped between us like a lead weight.

I tried to speak again, but my lips tingled with his kiss. I felt sick. I was going to throw up.

"I'm sorry for everything." His lips quivered, and I deliciously remembered our first kiss all those years ago. His eyes shut as he contemplated and how I wished I could see into his mind. "I'm sorry for leaving like I did. I'm sorry for calling you. I'm sorry for..."

The pause lasted forever.

But I knew what he was talking about.

Hesitantly...cruelly slow, my hand reached out and fingered the hem of his shirt.

It peeled up, exposing white, stretched skin, and his smooth belly button, and with a daring ignorance, I cradled his baby bump.

Japan closed those almond eyes dreamily, as if this was all he wanted, the crown of his head falling forward and resting on my shoulder.

Had it been forever since we had been like this?

I felt the same feeling as when I felt Emile's little kicks, but these were weaker, not as frequent, almost ghostly.

The wind whipped again, sending shivers like volts of loose white iced energy coursing through me.

His sigh lit the night.

"I never stopped loving you."

My ears burned. My cheeks flashed red hot and my fingers danced on his skin, pressing into him as if to coax the baby to feel me to. He was mine wasn't he? I had made this.

The idea made me feel so small in the world.

What had I done?

The boughs of the oak tree creaked in the night, the leaves rustling as if it was trying to shake them from its limbs. The entire night seemed alive with the moon spilling over full and ivory carved as it sat by a thousand diamond studs in that velvet sheet.

I could feel the heat of his breath steam on my shoulder, or were those _tears_ soaking into my shirt?

Walking out on a whim, I kissed him, soft and sweet like we used to. He didn't kiss back, and that was saddening in itself, but I moved my lips against his anyway, because we were so tied together that I couldn't let this go.

_You're weak, Alfred. What if Ivan knew? _

I opened my mouth to break the silence and stop my thoughts but a sob chocked me, surprised as Kiku's hands cupped my cheeks lovingly and silenced me again.

"Listen to me Alfred, and you listen good. I need to quit you." He strained himself to look me in the eye, thumbs moving reassuringly against my cheek. I turned my lips to kiss his palm, eyes closed soothingly as I thought.

"I love you Alfred, I do. Something deep inside me, something small and ignorant and stubborn wanted to hold onto you for as long as I could. I don't know if it's because you're so full of life. So young and so carefree. I don't know if it's because I needed you after WW2, I don't know if maybe I'm some sick person who enjoys whether you give me kisses or scars. All I know is that I've always loved you..."

I could see a glint of something dark in his eyes, a shift in the mood suddenly, like everything was falling apart, everything turned to sand and slipping through his fingers.

"But I know that whatever you and Ivan are...it's a whole different level. I've seen the way he moons over you, the way he treats you. So...different the entire world. It's like he lights up around you. You make him smile, and he makes you laugh like the sun, and-" a sob broke through, his hands coming up in front of him as if to build a barrier between us, hands closed over his stomach protectively.

"And I can't take that away from you." A watery smile sketched its way across those thin lips, so painfully beautiful that I was at a loss of words. "I don't deserve any of you. Please Alfred..." I hated his begging, I felt weak in the knees, nausea wavered over me again. "Please just go on with your life. Because if you don't, then I can't either."

Something seemed off suddenly. He was feeling guilt. Betrayal. Toxic thoughts bloomed in my mind.

No, no, it couldn't be it.

_Come on Alfred. Think. Why had he left so soon without aputting up some fight to keep you?_

_Why do you think Greece took him in so soon, knowing he was carrying 'your' child?_

I interrupted those hateful snipping thoughts as my brain came to a craching hault. I stepped back as if he'd lash out at me. "Just answer one thing. Just tell me honestly, and I'll let you go."

His irises flicked as they searched me for some kind of answer, as if he could read me like he always had been able too. He finally nodded, shaking his bangs into his eyes, defeated and torn down, as if he knew what was coming next.

"Did you...while we were seeing each other...did you ever sleep with him?"

His hands came forward and gripped my shirt as if he was going to fall, teeth grit and jaw stone set in his mouth. There was acid in his bitter eyes as he looked up at me, and Kiku murmured that one simple word.

"Yes."

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**...More Russia next chapter. :) **

**What do u guys want? **

**What chapter was you guys fave? Why?**

**Do you like my new style of writing? **

**TALK TO ME! CORRECT ME! **

**Tell me whats wrong and whats good, tell me what you think, what you see as forshadowing, as cute or terrible or sad. **

**Please, the more ou comment, th more its easier for me to continue. **

**I need help, please! R and R! This story is hanging by a thread.**


	21. I can't, I simply can't do it to him

**So I've been thinking, and here it is! ANOTHER TWIST! **

**BWAHAHAHA! And you just thought I had started thickening the plot. This is getting brutal, with new characters, and a new player in this game. :) Don't forget to read the author's comment below as well.**

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**Ivan's POV**

I had always hated my leader.

He was tall like myself, lean with a regal edge to him, arrogance roped around his words, the gold of his eyes heavy and piercing. His broad shoulders and slim arms made him look like an ox, strong and unmoving as he sat in his chair, his long, maestro fingers laced underneath the point of his chin. I hated how his eyes shifted to watch me pace, but nothing else in his appearance so much as flinched.

He was stone cold with his lips as he quaintly asked, "How is it going?"

I stopped midstride and turned on my heel, clicking the boots together in a military fashion I had never out grown. "Alright." I gave him a pointed answer, for which he gave a dangerous look, and I returned to pacing to avoid the cruel gaze.

I hated meetings with him, because they always felt absolutely sluggish and a waste of my time. So many formalities chained me in this room. And every time I almost broke every rule.

"You know how I feel about you calling him by his human name. And stop pacing, it makes you seem anxious-"

"Because I am-"

"And don't interrupt me." His voice was grave, dark and authoritative, no longer suggestions. There were orders. I stopped walking, bent my head in submission and bit my tongue.

"I'm sorry sir. But I'm nervous, Alfr- _America_ has been acting strangely as of late. I thought it would jeopardize the mission." Calling Alfred by his country title sickened me, like we were back in the Cold War, and we were the tops of the world, and nothing was more important than these two places. _Russia. America. _

I liked Alfred better, because Alfred sounded like the sun, and smiled like crisp autumn leaves and his lips formed awkward Russian consonants and he kissed like sweet tea and apples. Alfred never pointed a gun at me, I never saw Alfred's eyes from the other end of the barrel, never caught Alfred in my crosshairs.

My leader nodded slightly, contemplating with those calculating eyes closed softly. I wonder what he saw behind those eye lids. It was almost like I could feel him undoing Alfred, plotting his demise to the very end. That's what he did best. Unthreading people. Laying them under a microscope and finding the weak link.

Exploitation. Control. Leverage. Power. He was fueled by the desire to obtain everything this world had to offer. I watched as he sat up straight, back cracking a little as he rolled his shoulders, popping his knuckles and licking his lips ever so slightly. It was routine, and comforting, and a sign he had figured it out.

"Well, keep strong and carry on. Go back and help him, we can't have him crumbling before we've even started this. What's happened? Why's he weakening?" The glint to his teeth appeared wolfish as he turned his head to look up at me, irises following my movements and reading me as easy as I could him.

"I...I'm not sure. Japan told him some things and he was devastated. Lover's spat is all, he'll be up and better real soon. Canada is looking after him." Try as I may, I still granted too much information. Quickly, I gave a child like smile, I sweetened up to him, footsteps soft as they lingered on the carpet and strode his way. "Things are fine, da? Let me work through them, trust me." My gloved hands laid on his, not minding their cold spark. I traced the veins on his hands and my eyes led up to his chest, then flickered to his face, wondering where all his youth went. I could see the grey threading through his auburn locks, and the wrinkles around his eyes deepened as he smiled back with assurance.

He opened his mouth as if he was going to speak, but didn't, my ears twitching to hear something, anything as he rolled his hands over and took mine in his grasp, bringing them to his closed lips.

Only once had he held me like this.

It was during WW2, at dawn when I had heard that Alfred had flown out the following night to fight with his men, and he had told me that young men like that were always the first to pass. _'Veterans were made of iron and anger and will power. Alfred would never last in that place.'_ When my eyes turned watery and I choked on my breath, his hands took mine and held them warmly.

He had been 18.

He was young and bright, bred for fighting like his father with his taut muscles and strong jaw. He had kissed my fingers, and mumbled in Russian, so soft and sweet that I couldn't believe he was the son of such a dictator.

The memory dissipated as he exhaled, long and weary, and I was surprised how much had changed since that day. He was no longer a boy. Nor was he welcoming or gentle, but a replica, the living embodiment of everything I had come to despise.

War had turned my strapping, young level minded heir into a bitter old master.

His eyes turned up to mine, looking at me through his eye lashes, probably reminiscing about the same memory, and astonished, maybe hateful, that I looked just like I had all those years ago.

"Nikolai, I can't do it."

The words left my mouth and I was appalled that I had even uttered them, his eyes narrowing to dangerous whisper. He recoiled harshly from me, and I leaned over the desk to plead.

"Wait, Nikolai, please! I can't. I just can't. He's not strong enough. He's so young, please."

I saw in his stare that his mind was made up, those fingers curling into fists as he beat them on the wood polished desk, pulling himself up to his full height as he stood stark, teeth bared as he answered me.

"You will do it! We need this! And strong or not he's claimed himself a super power, so he can take this! Do you understand me, you will go through with this!"

I tried to bite my lip to stop my arguments, but I felt like I was bursting at my slackened and wary seams. "I won't do it! I won't hurt him!" His hands grabbed at my coat collar to pull me down but my hands bit into his, the papers on his desk slipping off, his stumbling form seen as a blur when he leapt the desk, knees on my chest, toppling me over.

The breath was knocked out of me, lungs feeling like hot, deflating lead balloons as he tightened my tie around my neck. I could see his jugular pulsing and prominent against his skin as he leaned over me, broad shoulders blocking out the sun and heaving with anger.

"If I say to kill him," he took a gulp of air, "you will do it. When I ask to tear him limb from limb, you won't," he took in another shaking breath. "hesitate. And if I ask you to love him, lure him, and get a child out of him," his voice grew settled and easy, "you will do it. We are so close Ivan, I won't have you fucking this up. Got it?" I swallowed the knot in my throat and gasped as he dug his knees into my chest, inciting me to give a humbled answer. I could feel the ice pinpricks on my skin as he tightened my tie, the blood pooling hurtfully in my gut.

"I asked a question, Ivan."

"Yes, yes I understand." My response was crooked and thin as he let me go, standing up and straightening his appearance, running a hand through his hair to push the frazzled curls back into place.

My chest heaved as my heart raced, terrified as he turned round and looked me up and down again, enjoying my hurt and pain, the fact that he was the only human on the entire planet who could do this to me. He was my leader, he governed me, the legal binds were cruel and consciously wrapped around me. I was beneath him and he luxuriously basked in the thought.

He advanced toward me and I flinched out of untrained habit.

"You know what to do Ivan." I nodded solemnly, avoiding those poisonous eyes. His fingers came up and hesitated, as if he was mentally weighing the possibility of overcoming me again, to punish me for such an outbreak.

He was gracious.

This time.

He stroked my hair, pulling back the locks to see my face clearly, tsking at how I had tears in my eyes.

I wasn't crying about him fighting me. I wasn't crying because he had beat me so easily.

I was weeping because of what I had to do to Alfred.

"Come to my bedroom tonight. And you may leave for America tomorrow in the morning."

I didn't answer this time, just let my thoughts feed themselves on my open wounds, and wipe the tears from my eyes as he walked out of the room.

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**So Nikolai isn't an actual leader, nor is he fashioned out of one, nor is he based on one.**

**He is completly made up by me for the sake of a great plot! And I know a lot of people always write that countries are super strong (they are) but I wanted to show that they were still at the mercy of their leaders. **

**And poor Ivan, we see a little behind the mask. **

**So do you guys want more? **

**Then respond. I won't upload the next one till I get some feed back.**

**What do you like? What do you hate? **

**Though I LOVE getting responses of "I love it! Plz continue!" I want to know what is good, what should be changed, what you want, what you like, why. Be specific!**

**I'm trying to make this the best story ever! I can only do it with your help! **

**Thank you guys! *hugs for everyone!* **

**And cookies for those who R and R! **


	22. Wait, woah, wait right now?

**Heres the next chapter. I know the timing feelsfast, but I changed the written style, and a few other things. Hope yall are ready for the surpise. :) **

**Oh, but I feel a little bad for probably not making this a little more clearly known. If you read back through the last few chapters, you'll notice that the 'new player' is Russia's "boss" Nikolai. And that he is the one who's pushing Russia to get Alfred preggo. **

**Don't worry, it'll be explained in the next chapter, that and Alfie's baby problems and everything else. :) **

**I love yall for reading! *hugs everyone***

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America woke to an empty bed, and for whatever reason, it wasn't lonely or even surprising. He'd woken up cold and contemplating before, so this was almost like any other day back in the country.

And like all those years ago, Alfred could hear the cows lowing off in the barn a little walk down the lane. Zelda was barking at the chickens again, who were clucking back in distress and he knew the rooster's call would come any time again. Yep, there it was.

He smiled sleepily as his eyes gently opened, surrounded by the warm glow of dawn trying hard to crack from out behind the thick curtains. Alfred stretched, long and willing, rolling the cricks from his neck, and shivered as the covers fell from him, grabbing wildly at them and tangling in their thick, quilted creases as he fell hard to the ground

A chuckle started deep in his chest and rang through his throat as he sat up, glasses askew, the shirt falling a little too big over one shoulder, smile spreading on his face.

For a moment, he half expected Arthur to come in and scold him for making such a mess and for shirking his chores, but he was aware that he wasn't a child anymore. These weren't the same halls as back then. He was deep in adult affairs and Matthew was almost finished with his second pregnancy, and his parents were divorced.

He snuggled closer to the sheets, noticing that they smelled musty and old, a little like Kiku if he closed his eyes and imagined hard enough.

Alfred suddenly remembered last night, bitter and hateful toward the Japanese man. 'He had slept with Greece...we had been together. I had been pushing Russia away with such hateful hands, and Greece had him pressed into the pillows-"

He stood up and fixed his glasses heatedly, biting at his lip as he rustled the sheets up and threw them absent mindedly on the bed. "How could he?" The question kept throbbing back through his thoughts as he opened the blinds and let the sun light seep in.

The creak of the old screen door split the silence, as did the thick clunk of boots being thrown onto the polished wood floor.

'Russia's home.' Alfred mused, until the thought hit him full on like a splash of refreshing water. 'Russia's home!' He went bounding down the hall way, hand grabbing onto the banister head and swinging himself around and blustering down the stairs. He might have slipped a bit unheroicly on the rug, but if nobody saw, then it didn't happen.

"Russia! Russia! You're home, you're home! You idiot where did you go? Why'd you leave!" Alfred threw his arms around the hulking man in front of him, nails clawing into the coat as if to never let go.

He smelled of cheap cologne and sweat, his hair flakey and straw like. "Ivan?" He whispered up at the man, face buried in the folds of his scarf, eyes so alight and blue that Russia couldn't help and give a weak smile back.

"Oh, little Fredka, I am glad to be seeing you too."

Alfred noticed that there were raven rings of black around Ivan's eyes, as if he hadn't slept well...or at all. The crinkles that formed when he smiled looked weak and tear soaked, his cheeks blushed as if he'd been heavily breathing.

"You don't look too good," the American brought his hands up to fix the bangs that fell disheveled in front of his boyfriend's eyes. "What...what were you doing?" his tone came off wary and a little distrustful, though Russia just gave a deep sigh and embraced him long and hard.

Alfred could feel the shaking breaths welling behind Russia's chest, like a weak shower of painful convulsions. He felt lips press to his neck in tiny kisses, and he cradled Russia's head, guiding him to his lips. They both were shaking as they kissed, because of the secrets that both were holding back like bullets in steadfast guns.

Russia's thoughts were on how his entire body felt weak and spent, having suffered at his master's hand this morning in the most humiliating ways. He'd been taken in the middle of the night, over the bed, the desk, back on the table, the shower. His back was aching from writhing and arching, his insides unaccustomed to the hot, fast and sickening friction of sex where he wasn't the one giving. His virginity, ego and pride had all been busted in one sure, hard thrust, and he was broken in Alfred's arms as he thought of what had happened to him.

Alfred was hanging on to as if he was going to snap in half, moving his lips softly on Ivan's cheeks, covering the tears that were beading down the hot skin. He was silently apologizing for every time he had kissed Japan, and every time he had doubted this passion that was pooling deep behind his heart with hot, licking flames. Alfred's ears picked up the faint mumble of something, and he drew away, forehead pressing back on Russia's to search his eyes truthfully.

"What did you say?" America asked curiously.

"I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry." Ivan's words came fast and watery, this hurt expression on Russia's face was foreign and rare, his soft frown a little cracking line on his features. Ivan looked like he was molded from thin glass, and Alfred was afraid.

"No, no, baby, come here." Alfred took those soaking cheeks in his hands and pressed his nose beside Ivan's, trying to close any gap between the two. "You're fine, you're home." His arm pulled Russia even closer, the taller man folding almost into himself as he cried even more, from the shame and the hurt and the fact that Alfred was so strong even when he could feel the blonde breaking beneath him too.

Brie was almost a ghost in the hall way, peeking her pig tails and big, violet eyes out from the space between the stair's banister legs, lips formed into the perfect cupid's bow pout.

Between heavy sobs from Ivan, who hadn't cried this hard since what felt like the beginning of time, Alfred walked him over to the couch, his lumbering steps soft like pitter patter of rain on the floor.

The girl instantly followed, coming in on little cat feet, and climbing up on the sofa, cuddling onto Russia's lap, where she brought her hands up like Alfred had, and kissed his tear stained face.

This in turn made Russia weep harder, though the weak early stages of a smile were coming through. This innocence was blinding, Brie's soft voice coming through behind. "I'm the hero Uncle Ivan, that's what Momma Alfie said. So I can stop the bad guys if you want me to." Her voice was trembling with fear of who the bad guys could be to have taken down such a bear of a man like Ivan, but she was so heartbreakingly sincere that Ivan chuckled, which sounded drowned in his pitiful cries, and hugged her to his chest, strong arms mindful not to press her too hard.

"It's ok, Brie, there's no bad guys. I'm fine." And though it was a spiced lie that was falling from his tongue, the smile Russia gave was good enough for Brie not to ask anything else of it.

She giggled when Alfred picked her up and held her to his chest, cheek smoothed against the soft curls of her hair, and again felt the same churn of something deep inside his stomach.

"What trouble are you three up to?"

Everyone looked over to Matthew, who was looking absolutely miserable in his last month of pregnancy, so rounded that he had to hold a hand on his back to support his weight on his swollen ankles.

"The usual, Mattie." A broad smile from Alfred.

"Mamma!" Brie wiggled in her uncle's grasp and finally came free, running up to Matthew and grabbing at his knees. "Uncle Ivan was crying. I helped him stop being sad about the bad guys." She didn't ask to be picked up, knowing childishly that Matthew probably couldn't muster the strength to do it, instead, pulling excitedly on his pants.

Canada grinned as he placed a hand on her head, the fingers dipping down to brush the stray locks behind her ear. "Alfred, of all the things you could have passed down to her, you pick superheroes and villains?"

Now, America would have normally laughed wildly and forced a quipped comeback, had Canada not flinched in pain, both hands coming up to hold his swollen stomach.

"Matthieu?" Ivan enquired, the last of his sadness soaked up by beautiful Brie and her childishness, though a grave look best in his eyes now. "Matthieu are you ok?"

"Mattie?" asked Alfred, who was at his side, bending to catch the words coming from his brother's pursed lips.

"Ah, I'm- I'm fine. Just a real back kick." a befuddled expression washed over him as Canada felt around more on his stomach, not able to swat away his brother who was latched to him.

"Emile sure is moving quickly. He's so big, I can feel him clear-ow! He kicked me! Like in the face, kicked me!" Matthew snickered a little as he saw Alfred recoil back and glare a little pensively at the baby behind Canada's maternity shirt.

"That's it mister, when you get here, you're no longer my favorite nephew."

"Alfred," responded Ivan, who had lifted Brie into his arms and on his shoulders, "He's your only nephew."

"Doesn't matter, he's just out of luck," chided America who had gone back to listening to the baby swish around inside his brother. A moment passed, and nothing.

"I think he's quieted down," Alfred had started to say when Matthew doubled over, crying out a little pitifully. "He didn't kick though."

"Ah, _oh God_...Alfred, these are-" a breath was cut short as Matthew winced again, "-contractions. I'm going into labor." Alfred's eyes grew round and absolutely scared mindless as his brother repeated to him again, more influentially, more forcefully. A little terrified. "I'm going into_ labor_! Alfred!"

For a few split seconds, which must have felt like slow motion for everyone, Alfred made up his mind to perform a home birth, dialing the doctor up on his cell phone.

"Ya, I know, I mean like...now, like, right now. No, it's not gonna wait."

"Alfred." Came a moan as Canada sat down, leaning his head back as he tried to breath.

"He's ah...he's like 9 months due in like, uh..." his open mouthed, questioning look glinted to Canada who choked out an answer.

"Two weeks." Matthew was sounding pained and uncomfortable as Brie watched in increasing worry.

"Oh, two ah, weeks. And- ah, what? How _what_ is he?"

Ivan rolled his eyes as he watched as Alfred's vocabulary and comprehension cracked under pressure.

"Give me the phone, Fredka, tend to your brother." He snatched it from his hands and spoke clearly into the receiver, quickly and fluidly. "We were just talking and he started having labor pains. How far along? Um..." Russia turned his head to ask Canada the question when the normally quite Canadian spoke up, voice threatening to shake the walls.

"**_FAR ENOUGH_**! I don't care if he's tending to the Queen of fucking England, he needs to be here _NOW_!"

There was a beat, and a stunned look from everyone, Alfred luckily covering Brie's tiny ears from the curse and Russia turning back to the phone. "That's how far along he is."

* * *

**Ohh! Mattie is going to have Baby Emile! **

**And poor Russia was raped, and Alfred broke it off with Kiku, and WHERE ON EARTH IS PRUSSIA? AHH**

**So I'm thinking of adding some France and England (since they'll want to see their second grandson) and maybe a new mystery person. **

**Hmmmm, any ideas you guys? **

**OH! And has anyone seen aPAint it White? The English dub? Oh god, I died of LAUGHTER the entire time! Read and review and then go to youtube to whatch it! **

**NOW MY LOVELY READERS! **

**With love, **

**Suga Bee. **


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